


stained with light

by ont



Series: mockingbird [15]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Canon Compliant, Chronic Pain, Committed Relationship, Future Fic, Kid Fic, Loving Banter, M/M, Male Lactation, Mild Ex Drama, Mpreg, Post-Partum Anxiety, Relationship Struggles, Self-Esteem Issues, parenting, post-partum depression, step-parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 22:57:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16543928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ont/pseuds/ont
Summary: Louis and Liam adjust to life with five kids after they bring the twins home. (sliding doors verse)





	stained with light

OHIO, AUGUST 16, 2015

Ever since he woke up today, Louis has wanted to smoke so, so badly, but he can’t. He’s just sitting, sweltering in the summer heat on the balcony of Le Méridien and looking out at downtown Columbus. Cars honk below, ambulances wail by. The world is continuing on, even though Louis’ has effectively ended.

The door slides open, and Liam pokes his head out.

“Hi,” Louis says hoarsely. His voice is spent from crying last night, then yelling in defense of himself all this morning.

The band team meetings today went horribly. Everyone, even Modest, is willing to concede that it seems like Louis’ pregnancy complications indicate they should end the tour immediately so he can go home. So he doesn’t, you know, drop dead or have a miscarriage on stage. But there’s been a bitter undertone to everyone’s voice, like they couldn’t wait to get out of the conference room or hang up the phone so they could freely talk shit about Louis and his terrible life choices.

Harry has been a ghost ever since the aborted sound check yesterday. Louis wasn’t even in the room when Liam told him and Niall that the tour was over — he had no desire to be. He’s sure that every nasty, cruel thing Harry has ever thought about him since their friendship ended had bubbled back up to the surface at that moment.

Not that Harry would ever say any of that stuff aloud. Louis is sure he just went calmly back to his room, kicked a wall and swore a lot, then called Jeff to start contingency planning. But if he’d been in the room with him, the look on Harry’s face would have said it all. He knows him too well to think otherwise.

Meanwhile, Niall’s been kind, but distant — it’s obvious he’s massively disappointed and doesn’t want Louis to pick up on that, so he’s just avoiding him.

And Liam has been as supportive as he possibly can without letting on to anyone that they’ve been sleeping together. He’s sat in on every meeting with legal and management, touching Louis’ thigh under the table, slinging an arm around the back of his chair. Louis is really grateful for it. He can already feel his impending loneliness smothering him, like it’s a plastic bag over his head.

“Hi,” Liam says, and sits down next to him.

Louis exhales. “Look… I’m really fuckin’ sorry about all this.”

“Hey.” Liam puts his hand up. “Don’t. Okay? This isn’t your fault.”

“It is. It is. Fuckin’ all of it. I couldn’t keep Zayn in the band, and now  _I’m_  leaving ‘cos I got knocked up by him, it’s all my fault. Tour’s fucking ended, how many tickets are we gonna have to refund? How badly have we disappointed the fans, right before we disappear for fuck knows how long?” He rubs at the spot between his eyes, where tension is gathering. “This is a disaster, this is  _so_  bad. I wanted to fix shit, not ruin it.”

“Louis. Don’t think about it like that. You didn’t ruin anything. We just want you to get better, that’s all we want. Your health is the most important. No one wants you to drop dead over a few fuckin’ concerts.”

“I could go on, though… I just need to get me blood pressure lower…”

“ _Louis_ ,” Liam barks at him. “Stop. You’re going home. End of.”

“I know,” Louis says miserably. He could lose the baby. He knows. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me or anyone else. This isn’t your fault. No one’s ever done a world tour in their second trimester, alright? You’re a legend for making it as far as you have, mate, toughest fucker I know. Don’t apologize. You’re not Zayn, you’re not doing what he did. You’re not disappointing anyone.”

“You joking? I’m disappointing thousands of people.”

“Well, not me,” Liam says sharply.

Louis’ eyes fill. He stares up into the bright noon sun, but that just makes the tears start rolling down his cheeks. He sniffs, embarrassed.

“Louis,” Liam whispers, moving closer and settling his hand on his thigh like he did earlier today. “Don’t cry.”

“‘M not.”

“There’s tears in your eyes.”

“No,” Louis protests, and Liam laughs.

“Look,” he says, “you didn’t do this.”

“Ahh,” he exhales. “But I’m the one keeping this baby, mate… I made that choice.”

“That’s your right. You’re gonna be a dad, and you have to do what you have to do.”

Louis thinks, with a sickening lurch, what if he does miscarry her? He won’t be a dad, then. He’ll just be some washed-up loser who fucked it all up for nothing. He cups his hands to his middle, pressing them to the swell under his shirt. He felt her moving just a few minutes ago, but still.

After all of this, he still wants her so badly — maybe even more, now. So much has ended, or been ripped away from him, but no matter what, she’s his. No matter who he’s with or what he’s done, she’s his. He can love her with all his heart, and be loved back. She needs him. He needs her.

All this money and all this fame, and he still feels trapped. Still feels trashy, embarrassing, classless. It isn’t his fault, it’s not. He made a childish mistake with Zayn, just one stoned goof-up, and how is it such a terrible thing that he wants to take care of the baby they made? He’ll be a good dad, no one can tell him he won’t, his daughter will never want for anything in her life.

And how is it so terrible that he wanted Liam to comfort him? That he wanted to make them both happy? Liam’s been just as lonely as he has, lately. There’s something special between them, and even if it was fleeting, isn’t it better that they had it? Isn’t it better that they grabbed onto each other for a moment?

“Payno,” he chokes out. “We have to — you and me, we can’t go on, uh —“

Liam wraps him into a hug. Louis buries his face in his shoulder.

“I figured,” Liam whispers. He can’t (or doesn’t bother trying to) conceal the raw ache in his voice.

“I just, y’know…”

“You should try to make things work with Zayn, I mean that. I know you both want to. It’s just your stubbornness that’s been stopping you… but you’re going home, now. So he can take care of you like he wanted.”

“He won’t want to,” Louis says, his heart aching. He wipes his eyes. “He said we shouldn’t try —“

“But that was ‘cos you said you wouldn’t come home. And now you have to go home.”

“Exactly, I  _have_  to. He wanted me to  _want_  to.”

“He was just being prideful. I promise. He’s the other father of your baby, give him a chance, I know he wants to be in your life, and make things right.” Liam’s voice wavers and gets hoarse with restrained emotion. “He’s said so to me. He doesn’t just want to be your baby daddy. I know I’ve been sleeping with you, and I’ve got no right to be discussing this shit with him. You of all people know I’m not proud of the person I‘ve been lately. But I thought you ought to know that.”

Louis stares into space, trying not to cry more.

“You shouldn’t have to do this by yourself, if you don’t want to,” Liam says. “I know you never planned to do it that way, I know you hate to be alone. And I want you to know, um... my offer’s still on the table. But I want you to do what’s best for your daughter. Don’t think about me. Just think about you and her.”

“Liam,” Louis breathes, wrapping an arm around him and clinging to the back of his shirt.

“Yeah, love,” Liam whispers, his voice still strained and rumbly.

 _I wanted to make it work with you. I think I was falling for you, even._  He feels like a wrecking ball, just crashing through his bandmates’ lives, his ex-girlfriend’s life, leaving chaos and ruin wherever he goes.

He wishes again, fleetingly, that he were pregnant with Liam’s baby instead. It would be so much simpler. Liam wants a family, he wants a baby. He isn’t wounded and angry the way Zayn is. He’s being so kind. And Louis feels so mixed up right now.

“Let’s, um — let’s ‘ave one last go together,” he says.

“Oh, Louis —“ Liam draws back, looking stricken. “No, we shouldn’t. It’ll just make all this harder.”

“Listen, just — please,” Louis says, wiping his eyes again with his free hand. “I didn’t know last time was the last time, and now we’re ending this, and we’re not gonna be in the band together anymore — I just want somethin’ I can hang onto, alright?”

He wants to give Liam something to hang onto, as well, but it would be too presumptuous to say that.

“Louis…”

“Please. Don’t make me beg.”

Liam lets out a sigh and squeezes Louis’ thigh.

The baby kicks him, then. So at least he knows she’s alright.

“I’ve got another meeting in an hour,” Louis says. “So we should go for it now.”

Liam fixes him with an intense look, then stands and extends his hand.

Louis takes it and follows him into the bedroom. He heads straight for the bed; the balcony door swooshes shut behind him, and he turns to see Liam already unbuttoning his shirt and shimmying out of his jeans.

Louis doesn’t bother to take his t-shirt off, just tears his cropped sweatpants and boxers down in one motion. But Liam pulls his shirt off his head for him, murmuring, “I wanna look at you.”

Louis tips his head back against the bed, exhaling. Liam helps him stuff a pillow under his lower back and leans across him with a groan, grabbing some lube they’d left on Louis’ bedside table yesterday morning. Feels like a lifetime ago, yesterday morning.

They’d been so happy, the two of them, chatting and giggling and having really good sex. And then they’d gone to soundcheck, and Louis had fainted. His vision tunneled, his ears roared with static, and then he winked out of consciousness. Absurd visions swirled against his eyelids like a kaleidoscope.

He came to with all three of the boys around him, and Liam frantically trying to rouse him. He said he was fine, but no one believed him. Niall claimed, looking shaken, that his eyes had rolled back in his head. So his doctor was called right then and there. In fact, Louis had to fight tooth and nail to not be taken to the hospital.

“Be rough with me,” Louis whispers into the crook of his neck. “I wanna feel you the next couple days… wanna feel you with me.”

“Louis,” Liam breathes, sounding pained.

“I’m sorry,” Louis says again. It’s all he wants to say, anymore. Sorry, sorry, sorry.

“Don’t…”

They fall silent and work together on getting Liam in. The hotel room is dead quiet, like very nice hotel rooms tend to be, and the sounds of snogging and grunting quickly fill it.

“Wait,” Louis whispers when Liam finishes fingering him. He rolls into his front, gets on his knees and elbows. “Fuck me like this.”

Liam obliges without giving him his usual guff about how he likes seeing Louis’ face. Louis supposes that he just doesn’t want to waste any time, right now.

He thinks, sort of insanely, that maybe they could save this budding little thing between them, maybe they could stay together? But Liam would never go for that. And anyway, Louis has to let him go. There’s going to need to be so much damage control, and Liam’s going to have to do the brunt of it. The heavy lifting. Harry can’t string a sentence together these days without veering off into vague inanities, and Niall is going to want to go home to Ireland and go into an HGTV coma. And no one’s going to want to hear from Louis, the stupid trashy slut who accidentally ended One Direction for good. He can’t be clinging to Liam and muddying the waters when Liam is going to be the one speaking out clearly, holding the last tatters of their goodwill with the public together with his bare hands.

Besides, he wants to talk to Zayn. He does. He wants to know what he’s thinking, right now. He asked Oli to ring Zayn up this morning, to tell him he’s sick and coming home — he couldn’t bear to say the words out loud himself. Afterward, Zayn texted him  _i want to see you,_ and Louis said back,  _me too_.

And he meant it. He still loves him, despite himself, he still wants to share their baby’s life with him. He wants Zayn to touch his tummy and smile at him again, like he did in Pittsburgh. He wants that so badly.

It’s so complicated. It’s all so fucking complicated he wants to jump out of his skin and fly away. But he has a baby to think about, a little daughter the size of an apple who keeps fluttering inside him now like a moth against a light. She should have her other dad, right? Liam would be a great dad, too — but won’t she want Zayn? And Zayn wants to be in her life, he said so — but does he want to be in Louis’? —

He hits the eject button on his racing thoughts and tries to only be a body, to focus on the physical. Luckily Liam is fucking him exactly as hard as he asked for. Louis buries his face in his tattooed forearms, trying to hide the fact that he’s got tears streaming down his face now. He’s not crying because of the sex, which is fantastic, rough and deep and desperate. It’s because he can feel the grief radiating off of Liam like it’s body heat. His own grief is a tight thorny ball in his chest, pressing down on his heart, but Liam’s is like a fever.

 

CALABASAS, MAY 1, 2025

Louis comes stumbling into the dining room in his bathrobe around ten-thirty, rubbing at his eyes with the back of one hand. The massive floor to ceiling windows in here are a nightmare this time of day — the riot of sunshine streaming in through them grows worse every minute closer it creeps to noon. He sees Liam, sat at the head of the table eating cold waffles with his hands, and says, “Kids get off to school?”

Liam laughs. “Yeah, like two hours ago,” he says. “Agnes took ‘em. Twins down?”

Louis yawns and comes over to sit next to him, snatching a waffle off his plate. He takes the baby monitor out of his robe pocket and sets it on the table between them. “For now. Just spent fifteen minutes bouncing Max.”

Liam studies him. He looks ragged — they both do, but Louis is considerably worse for the wear. He hasn’t shaved since he left the hospital, and he’s only been showering intermittently. “Your back doing any better this morning?”

Louis shrugs. “Alright. But, uh, my accountant called me just now…”

“Your accountant?”

Louis finishes his waffle and has a sip of Liam’s tea. He makes a face, sticking his tongue out.

“No good?”

“Cold,” he says. “And too sweet. Yeah, me accountant. Apparently after I took the Percocets last night, I bought LadBible?”

Liam blinks at him. “You what?”

“Yeah, it was up for auction, and…” Louis takes stock of the look on Liam’s face and cries, “Hey, I did take like four of ‘em!”

“But we’re about to be married, you can’t just buy things like that without consulting me!”

“It’s an  _investment_ ,” Louis says. “I sort of like the idea… I’m a media mogul, now. I’m a publisher.”

“Tommo.”

“What? Maybe I’ll buy the Doncaster newspaper too, they need the money. I’ll start an empire, I’ll be like wossisname, Rupert Murdoch, but a good version, like.” He says Murdoch like  _Muuuuuurdoch._

“Start an empire? Love, you can barely stand up for more than ten minutes right now.”

Louis laughs. “Go get some more waffles, will you? And heat them up this time, you fucking weirdo.”

“Alright, alright. What time’s the pediatrician today?”

“One? One thirty? It’s in me phone.”

“Wanna try to get some more sleep before then?”

“Absolutely.”

 

*

 

They doze fitfully in a puppy pile together, alternating between spooning close and shoving each other away so they can have more of the bed to themselves. Around noon, Louis whispers to him, “Our appointment’s at one.”

Liam grunts. He’s still in a thick haze of sleep, his face buried in a pillow, and the words barely penetrate.

Liam feels Louis’ hand settle between his shoulder blades, stroking his skin through his thin shirt. “We ought to start getting them ready, you know how long it takes to get out of here...”

“Make him c’mere,” Liam mumbles.

“Who?”

“Doctor.”

“We haven’t got any medical equipment here, Payno.”

“Tell him t’ bring his.”

“Bring his whole office?”

“Mmhmm.”

Louis nudges him. “Or we could get up.”

Liam (gently, because he knows Louis’ insides are still all mixed up) wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him close. “Nah, bad idea.”

Louis laughs and kisses him on the neck.

Liam girds himself for a moment, then sits up, flings the sheets off himself and staggers out of bed. He makes it to the bathroom on pure inertia and slaps some cool water on his face, which doesn’t really make him less disoriented, although it does feel nice.

Over the next half-hour they do their now-familiar zombie routine, getting themselves ready and strapping the twins into their car seats, then unstrapping Patrick and running him back inside to change after he spits up on himself. Liam puts on a pair of relatively nice jeans and runs some gel through his hair in case they’re papped, while Louis opts for a giant formless sweatshirt, joggers, and pushing his shaggy fringe over to the left. Their bedroom and walk-in closet are hard to traverse, still cluttered with gift baskets from their friends and Mylar balloons that have only just begun to deflate, drooping CONGRATS ON YOUR BABY BOYS! messages over their dressers and mirrors.

Liam bolts down one of those nasty little Starbucks Doubleshots once he’s in the driver’s seat, then settles his hands on the wheel. It’s painfully bright out, even through his sunglasses; he’s squinting like he’s hungover. “Wait, oh my God,” he exclaims, “did we just leave the kids alone?”

“They’re at school, Payno,” Louis says patiently.

“Right, right. We got everything else?”

“We’re set,” Louis mutters. He turns and glances over his shoulder, eyeing the car seats. “Let’s roll.”

 

*

 

They had their first well-baby visit with Dr Emory two days after they brought the twins home from the hospital. Louis was still exhausted from the entire ordeal on top of his surgery, so he was mostly inert while Emory sent piece after piece of digital literature on premature twins and their needs to Liam’s e-mail. Liam did his best to pay attention, but he was still coming out of the stomach flu, so he stood there fuzzy-headed and blinking every few seconds to wet his dry eyes. Most of the words bounced off his skull without penetrating.

Today they’re both in better shape. Liam stands in the middle of the room, pacing to keep the blood flowing to his sleepy brain, while Louis sits on the crinkly-paper covered exam table with the babies in their carriers on either side of him.

“Where is ‘e?” he says, looking irritably at his watch. “I’ve been a client of his since Mims was like a month old, you’d think that’d merit a bit of consideration.”

“It’s only eight past.”

“That’s eight minutes longer than I felt like waiting with two newborns.”

Patrick fusses, and Louis slips him easily out of the carrier, cradling him to his chest and singing a little nonsense lullaby for him.

Louis has been terribly worried about Paddy, this past week; he’s lost a quarter of a pound since he was born, and is yet to gain it back. This is probably the root of the rotten mood Louis has been in since they arrived at the pediatrician. Despite all his parenting experience, he seems half-convinced that their smaller son is just going to wither away as they’re helpless to watch.

Max is doing much better, so the small amounts of milk Louis has been pumping to relieve his discomfort as he waits for it to dry up — they’ve all gone straight to Patrick. “This is liquid gold,” Louis said sternly to Max the other day, as he leaned over him to pick up his brother, a bottle clutched under his arm. “You don’t need it. You’re Mister Fuck-off Big Man, took all of Paddy’s food in the womb, and now I’m evening the playing field.”

“I don’t think he  _meant_  to do that,” Liam said in amusement from the bed.

Dr Emory appears at 1:10 on the dot, swinging open the door to their suite with a wide smile.

“Oh,  _there_  he is,” Louis says, his light eyes glittering.

“Hi Louis,” Emory says in good cheer. “Sorry I’m late. How are you?”

“Ah, survivin’,” Louis says, rubbing Patrick’s back. “Yourself?”

“I’m great! And how are Mia and Amir?”

“They’re doing fine.”

“Hey there, Liam,” Emory says.

“Hey, mate,” Liam says, smiling as he moves past him to come check out the twins.

“Oh,” Emory coos to a wriggly Max as he scoops him up, “still don’t like getting weighed, do you?”

“He likes when you tickle his feet,” Louis says. “It makes him forget about whatever else you’re doing to him. We figured that out when he had his first bath.”

Emory brings Max over to a small weight pad on the counter, and dutifully tickles his feet.

“Six pounds!” he says. “Excellent. So he’s gaining fairly well.”

Max blows a spit bubble in response. They all chuckle.

Emory has to peel Patrick from Louis’ arms; Louis looks defeated as he does, like he already knows what he’s about to hear.

“We’ve been doing everything they told us,” he says, as Emory lays Patrick down where Max had been and squints at the numbers that display. “And I’ve been supplementing the formula, like I said on the phone —“

“I’m sure you’re doing everything right,” Emory assures him. “So, it looks like he’s a little less than five pounds right now, but I’m not worried, okay? It’s about what I was expecting. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

Louis nods blearily. Max lets out a soft cry next to him, and he reaches over to stroke his head.

“Louis’ been fantastic,” Liam says. “I can attest to that.”

Emory smiles. “Oh, I know. He’s always been one of my more concerned parents.”

Louis looks a bit embarrassed. “I’m just trying to do everythin’ right,” he says, staring resolutely at Max instead of looking at either of them.

“Well, if you can keep pumping for as long as you can, that would be great,” Emory says. “Have you considered nursing? I know it’s hard for men, especially with twins. But it would keep your supply coming in —“

“I know, mate —“

“— which could mean the difference between a month or two of milk versus six.”

“I haven’t considered it, nah,” Louis says. “‘Less you think it’s necessary.”

“Oh, no, no. It shouldn’t be.”

Emory hands Patrick to Liam. Liam cups his eggshell-delicate little head and gives it a kiss. Patrick mewls quietly.

“Alright, time to see how tall your boys have gotten,” Emory says cheerfully, and starts rummaging in a drawer.

 

*

 

“Ah, here we are,” Louis says on the drive home, and waits until Liam has rolled up to one of Calabasas’ endless red lights to show him his phone.

It’s pap pics of them heading into the doctor’s office, already circulating widely on Twitter.

“God, you see everything, don’t you?” Liam says, and Louis laughs.

The photos are alright, very normal. They photographed as tired as they feel, but neither of them are accidentally tipping a twin halfway out the baby carrier or anything. It’s just them walking, looking extra beleaguered in the harsh sunshine.

“I look like I’ve died and been dug up again,” Louis remarks.

Liam laughs. “Tommo…”

“I really do. My eyes are so puffy it looks like I don’t have any. You don’t look much better, mind.”

“Hey, at least I combed my hair!”

Louis snorts. “I finally tweeted, by the way,” he says.

Liam navigates to Louis’ profile. He’d responded to a fan who said,  _why haven’t you guys posted about the babies yet?? is everything okay? :(_

 _Everything’s fine, me and Payno have seen all your lovely posts and we appreciate it, just busy enjoying our boys ! x_ Louis said back.

“Oh good,” Liam says, and yawns. “I’ve been meaning to, um — I think they’ve been wondering why I didn’t post…”

“Sorry,” Louis says with regret in his voice.

He had been the one to stop Liam from posting right after they were born; he was even more superstitious then. He’d refused to confirm anything, even though they were pap photos of them leaving the hospital.

Zayn alleviated this a little by bringing by a giant painting he did of a hamsa and hanging it up in the nursery. “Should’ve given you this while you were pregnant, that’s traditional,” he said, “but, y’know. I forgot. Anyway, it stops the evil eye.”

As agnostic and unmystical as Louis is, the painting genuinely seemed to calm him. Liam sent Zayn a rare one-on-one text of  _thanks for the evil eye protection, mate,_  and Zayn had responded with an emoji thumbs up.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Liam says. “I like a bit of privacy, anyway.”

 

*

 

Louis has his ob-gyn that same day. He leaves Liam home, which on the surface is so someone is home with the babies when Agnes heads back out to get the kids from school — but Louis also wants a bit of privacy so he can talk as candidly as possible.

It’s nice to have a respite from all their kids, too. He realizes as Elijah is pressing the cold stethoscope to his chest that this is the first time in two weeks that he’s been away from any of them.

He inhales, trying to fully inhabit his skin so he can savor this moment of solitude. He feels the leather under his bum, the metal against his tender pec; he flicks his eyes to the wooden shutters and watches dust motes float in the beams of sunshine streaming in.

“Your breathing sounds good,” Elijah says.

“You expecting otherwise?” Louis says.

Elijah laughs. “No, no.”

“Alright, good.”

Elijah steps back and loops the stethoscope around his neck. “How are you doing?”

“About as shit as I expected,” Louis says. “I mean, I’ve been here before. Just worse this time.”

“How much worse?”

“Oh, y’know. I’m older, now. We’ve got three other kids, between us… had two babies this time… my back’s a nightmare, so I’ve got no choice to take opioids, an’ then when I do I’ve got to dump this milk I’m making, which feels like such a fucking waste, ‘specially when me smaller son is fuckin’ tiny, still…”

Elijah nods. “You sound frustrated,” he says.

“I am, I guess. I knew it was gonna be tough, this first year, but I didn’t realize, I guess, how tough.”

“I can understand that.”

“And I know this is superficial, but I’m just wondering when I’m gonna stop looking like I’m still a bit pregnant?” he says, letting out a dry chuckle.

“I mean, that’s normal, of course.”

“It’s never lasted this long before, is all.”

“Well, you had twins,” Elijah says. “And after two prior pregnancies.”

“Three,” Louis corrects him.

He’s not quite sure why he does correct him — he lost that one at eight weeks, it’s not like it had taken up real residence in him yet. But he doesn’t like that horrible time in his life being minimized in any way. He wants his hurts acknowledged, especially right now.

“Three, I’m sorry. So, yeah, it’s gonna take your uterus a little while to snap back.”

“Mmm,” Louis says. “Fantastic. How long?”

Elijah gives him a kind smile. “Give it a couple more weeks. Really, you shouldn’t worry about that right now. You’ve had kids before, you know you’ll get back to normal in good time.”

“Right,” Louis mutters.

“How’s the mastitis?” Elijah says. “All cleared up?”

“Yeah,” Louis says. “But it does hurt sometimes, when I, y’know.”

He makes a vague, jerky hand gesture that the doctor seems to understand.

“Just when you pump, or every time you lactate?”

“Both.”

“I’m just gonna feel you here,” Elijah says, reaching his hand up under Louis’ shirt and palpating his pec, rubbing at his left nipple.

Louis winces. “Ahh. Bit tender, yeah.”

“Feels a little hot, to me. There might be some lingering inflammation, post-infection… are you taking an NSAID for your pelvic pain? Because that could pull double-duty, help clear this up.”

“I guess I could,” Louis says. “Those just don’t really cut into me pain. More like they take the edge off.”

“Okay.” Elijah drops his shirt and takes a seat in front of him. “Give it another week or so, your body just needs some time to recover.”

“Right,” Louis says, feeling the familiar ache of dread. Maybe he’ll never feel normal again.

“How are you, emotionally?”

“Um. I dunno.”

Elijah waits for him to elaborate. Louis drags in some air, then heaves it out in a sigh and looks down at his clasped hands.

“Not great,” he admits, heat prickling at his eyes. “I, um. I dunno. I feel like I usually do, after I have a baby… just not meself… feel overwhelmed, and weird. It wasn’t this bad after I had my son… it was after Mia, but I thought that was ‘cos I was rowing with her dad so badly at the time. But me and Liam are solid, and I still… I dunno.”

“Those feelings aren’t out of the ordinary,” Elijah says, in a gentle tone.

Too gentle. Louis feels condescended to, misunderstood. Tears leak out of his eyes, and he ducks his head.

“I’d just rather feel alright,” he mutters, his voice throaty. “My sons are, like, so little and fragile. I need to be on top of things. Not all hazy and, like...”

Full of malaise, dread, anxiety; struck by random bursts of despair that throttle the air from his lungs. He doesn’t say any of that. He’s afraid it sounds too crazy, like Elijah will think he’s gonna drown the twins in the bathtub or something.

“It could be harder on you this time because of the tubal ligation,” Elijah says. “Your hormones will have been affected… between that and giving birth, you’ve had a severe drop in progesterone and estrogen. That together can cause headaches, mood swings, make other pain worse, all that.”

“Oh,” Louis says. “Would’ve been nice to know that before I got myself fixed.”

Elijah laughs. “It doesn’t always have a noticeable effect. But that effect can be worse, when you have it done right at the end of a pregnancy.”

“Got you.”

He fixes Louis with an unbearably understanding look, like he’s a doctor in a drug commercial. “I remember we did talk a few months ago about how you have a tendency toward mild postpartum depression.”

“Yeah,” Louis says in a clipped tone.

“Do you want me to prescribe you something?”

“No, no thanks.”

“You sure?”

“It’s temporary.” Louis wipes at his eyes. “Innit? It’s always temporary, this?”

“It should be.”

“I’ll weather through. I’ve been through worse shit.”

“I could give you something to take as needed,” Elijah offers.

Louis shifts in his seat. “Like what?”

“Like a benzo.”

“Oh,” he says. Xannies, like Zayn used to take by the handful. “Are they alright, if I…” He gestures at chest-level.

“Not really,” Elijah says, with some regret.

”What about CBD oil?”

”That’s not advised, either.”

Louis flaps his hand. “Don’t worry, then. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

He smiles. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t really have a choice in that, does he? Not with five kids relying on him.

 

*

 

The house is unusually quiet when he returns. Louis hovers for a moment in their stately foyer, torn between relief and concern; he decides on concern, and shouts, “OI! Family!”

A moment later, Liam’s voice crackles over the nearest intercom: “I’m in the nursery, babe.”

“ALRIGHT,” Louis shouts. He’s too lazy to walk over and buzz him back.

Amir wanders down the hall. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi. Where’s the girls?”

“They went over to Lizzie’s house.”

“Oh, alright,” Louis says. “You didn’t want to?”

Amir shrugs his little shoulders. “No,” he says. He has a lonely look that makes Louis feel compelled to tend to him.

“You wanna watch TV with me?” he says.

Amir nods. “Yeah.”

 

*

 

They cuddle up on the couch together in the den like they often do. Louis puts on one of Amir’s favorite Youtube channels, one of the hundreds of ones devoted to letting you watch other people play Minecraft. Their big leather couch is deliciously comfortable, and the flickering fire warms the large drafty room so well that he keeps dozing off. Amir nudges him every time.

“Da-ad,” he murmurs after a while.

“Sorry…”

Amir flicks his large dark eyes up at Louis, searching him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, angel face.”

Amir snuggles more firmly into his armpit. “You’re always asleep, now…”

“Noo, no I’m not.”

“The babies ruined you and Liam. Now you’re gonna be zombies forever.”

Louis shifts his arm around Amir and reaches up to pinch his cheek. Amir laughs and wriggles. “I promise they didn’t,” he says, his voice hoarse from overuse. “The first couple months are tough, I told you that’d happen.”

“But the girls think so too! They think everything’s gonna suck for like, years. It’s just Mia keeps telling us we’re not allowed to say anything to you ‘cos you’re already stressed out.”

“It’s not gonna suck forever,” Louis says. He tips his head back onto the couch and takes a deep breath to quell a yawn that’s rising in his throat. “I promise.”

“Was I annoying?” Amir says. “When I was a baby? Were you a zombie then, too?”

“I was pretty zombied out, lad, yeah.”

“Sorry.”

Louis ruffles his hair. “Nothin’ to apologize for. It’s just how it is. But it is temporary.”

Amir seems to accept this, and they return their attention back to the TV. Louis must doze off for good, then, because he wakes at least an hour later to Liam shaking his arm.

“Wazzat,” he says thickly, squinting up at him. Amir is asleep, too, curled in the crook of his arm.

“Hey,” Liam whispers. “Time for dinner.”

“Right, right...”

His back is aching badly from falling asleep upright. He extricates himself from under Amir and tries to get to his feet, but shooting pain lights up his lumbar spine like fireworks. Louis collapses onto the rug, groaning. The pain whites out his mind and spreads sickly down his back into his pelvis, which feels like it’s grinding against itself.

Liam is kneeling next to him, stroking his shoulder and saying his name. His voice sounds strange, like he’s in the other room.

“Please,” Louis moans. “Tylenol, the strong ones… please… fuck…”

“I’m on it.”

Louis wrenches his neck to the left as much as he can; through one half-shut eye, he sees Liam scoop a still-sleeping Amir off the couch and carry him out of the room.

What feels like eons later, Liam returns with some pills and a glass of cool water. Louis tries to reach out for them, but that tweaks his back further, so Liam pushes them into his mouth, then props him up and pours water in after them.

Louis swallows roughly. “I’m sorry.”

”Don’t apologize,” Liam says. “Come on, you’ve just gave birth to twins, what are you apologizing for? Lie flat on your back.”

“Why?”

“So I can carry you upstairs.”

“You can’t possibly carry me all the way upstairs!”

“Why not? I’m pretty strong.”

“Liam… I know I’m not a big guy, but you aren’t much bigger, and ’m not made of fuckin’ marzipan…”

Liam snorts. “Roll onto your back. Swear I won’t drop you.”

Louis obliges. Liam slides his hands under him and slowly gathers him into his arms.

“You put the fire out?” Louis mumbles.

“Yeah, love.”

Liam stands, lifting with his legs. Louis wraps his arms around Liam’s neck like a koala and buries his face there, right where he smells like fancy aftershave.

“Alright?” Liam says.

“All good here.”

Liam slowly starts walking. Louis shuts his eyes like he’s a little kid again, pretending to be asleep so he can be carried in from the car. He can hear Mia and Sunday laughing in a room down the hall. Bo trots after Liam, his nails clicking on the hardwood, and lets out a bark of suspicion.

“I’m not doing anything to him,” Liam says to the dog, his voice strained. “I promise.”

“I’m fine, Bo-bo,” Louis mumbles into Liam’s shoulder.

Liam starts breathing more heavily as they head up the stairs. Louis waits for him to buckle, but he doesn’t. He makes it all the way to their bedroom before he drops Louis on the bed like a sack of potatoes.

Louis smiles at Liam as he bends over with his hands splayed on the bedcovers, his arms shaking and his chest heaving. “Thank you, love.”

“Swear you’re not heavy,” Liam pants. “I just — those endless fucking stairs —“

Louis settles back against the pillows. The ache has dulled, and if he lies still, he almost feels alright. “What’d you do with Amir?”

“Tossed him on the sofa in the parlor.”

He chortles. “ _Tossed_  him? You toss my son around?”

“Y’know what I mean — set him down. I’ll go wake him in a minute, I didn’t want to have him miss dinner.”

“Dinner’s ready, you said?”

“Yeah.” Liam sits on the edge of the bed. “I can bring you up a plate?”

“That’d be perfect.”

Liam smiles at him.

“Gimme a kiss,” Louis says, looking at him with great affection. “You idiot. Could’ve hurt your own back bringin’ me up here, then where’d we be?” He trails off and winces — pain is flickering in his pelvis again.

Liam comes over and kisses him on the forehead as ordered. “The twins are down,” he says. “I’ll put a baby monitor right here on the table.”

“Turn it up? I like to listen to ‘em breathe…”

Liam fiddles with the dial, obliging. The soft sound of sleeping babies fills the air like white noise.

Louis relaxes a little.

“Just take it easy ‘til the pills kick in,” Liam says. “Shout if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Louis murmurs.

Liam hesitates, then says, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For all this pain you’re in. It’s my fault.”

“Fuck are you on about?”

“It’s ‘cos you had the twins, it’s my fault.”

“Hey, I was the one who said we ought to have a baby. I was all over you, remember? Wanted your sperms all up in me, Payno.”

Liam chuckles hard at this.

“And the twins bit was just… y’know. A fluke. But I wouldn’t trade ‘em for the world. And I won’t feel like this forever.”

“I just feel like shit about it,” Liam whispers.

“Hush. Don’t worry your big head, alright?”

Liam’s mouth drops in offense. “Oi, who’s got a big head?”

Louis shoots him a grin. “What’d you make for dinner, lovey?”

“Chicken thighs, roast potatoes, green beans.”

“Sounds fantastic. Bring me lots of potatoes.”

Liam leans in to kiss him on the head again. “Will do.”

 

*

 

Louis wakes around midnight that night to soft crying and snuffling. He lies there for a moment, fixing his eyes on the ceiling fan so they’ll adjust to the darkness. It’s Max doing his “I’m wet” cry. He’s already gotten pretty good at picking out the variations.

Liam is still snoring next to him, so he decides he should probably take this one, even though it’s not  _technically_  his turn. He can give Liam a hard time about that in the morning.

“I’m coming,” Louis whispers, and gingerly gets out of bed.

He’s a nappy-changing machine, after all the practice he’s had — he gets Max sorted in about a minute flat, then buttons him back up, cooing to him that he’s a good sonny boy.

Max fusses when he puts him back down, though, and it’s a “don’t leave me” fuss, so Louis picks him back up and sits on the edge of the bed, rocking and singing to him the way he likes.

Liam stirs behind him and nudges him in the back with a foot. “Mmm?” he says.

“Go back to sleep, love,” Louis whispers, kissing Max on the head. “I’ve got this one.”

“I have to wee now,” Liam says in his sleepy voice. Louis loves his sleepy voice. “But I don’t wanna get up.”

“Piss the bed,” Louis suggests.

“Noooo-o…”

Patrick lets out a little cry.

“Oh no,” Louis says, his heart sinking. “Not both of you now, come on.”

“That’s his ‘I want Louis’ cry,” Liam mumbles.

“Oh, fuck off. Alright…” Louis carries a soothed Max back to his crib and lowers him down, swaddling him back up. Max hiccups, but falls quiet again when Louis tickles his feet, so he hurries over to his brother and scoops him up. “Hush, hush...”

Patrick’s wailing peters off, but he keeps whimpering. Louis carries him back to bed and settles against the pillows, cradling him tight.

“He’s so small,” he whispers.

“Hmm?” Liam grunts.

“Paddy… he’s so small…”

“Aw, he’ll get bigger, Lou…”

Louis tears up without meaning to, yet again. He holds Patrick even tighter, and Patrick lets out a little sound.

Liam rolls over and squints at him. “Don’t  _crush_  him to death, that’s not gonna make him any bigger.”

Louis lets out a tearful laugh. “I’m not!”

“He’ll be fine.”

“I know…”

Liam sits up and wraps his arms around Louis, his limbs floppy. “He’s gonna grow up tough and massive… he’s gonna be the Hulk…”

“I’d settle for him weighing five pounds,” he whispers.

Liam gives Patrick a kiss on the head and then Louis one on the cheek. “Gimme him,” he says, yawning, moving to pull Patrick from Louis’ arms.

Louis holds him tighter. “No, don’t.”

“Hon…”

He reluctantly releases Patrick; Liam gives him a flurry of kisses and deposits him back in his crib, where he lets out a soft coo.

Liam staggers into the bathroom, then, and Louis hears piss forcefully hitting porcelain. He lies back down in bed, wiping his eyes. He feels silly for how weepy he’s been, first when he was pregnant and now that he’s fresh off it, but Liam doesn’t seem to mind. He’s always liked that Louis has his heart on his sleeve. He says it makes him better at writing lyrics.

Louis rolls over into the middle of the bed, taking up more than his fair share of room so Liam will have to move him.

Sure enough, Liam lets out a groan when he comes back out and kneels behind Louis, shaking him by the shoulders. “Hey.”

“Cuddle me,” Louis says, sniffling. 

Liam pushes on him. “Scoot over!”

“Gimme cuddles, you dickhead!”

Liam heaves him over to the right hand side of the bed, then settles behind him and wraps around him like an octopus.

Comforted, Louis shimmies back against him.

“Hi angelface.”

“Hi,” Louis murmurs.

Liam gives his bum a lazy squeeze. “Miss you.”

“‘M right here.”

“Miss sex, I mean.”

“Oh, Liam,” Louis groans. “Not yet, mate.”

“I don’t mean — I just mean it’d be nice if we could find some time to jerk each other off, that’s all.”

“It’d be nice… free time’s hard to come by, but…”

“I know, but we have to touch each other...”

“I know.”

Louis doesn’t know how to say that he doesn’t even feel like himself, right now, that his body doesn’t feel like his, that Liam’s hands on him don’t feel like Liam’s hands on him. He knows what Liam wants — he wants to slide inside Louis, he wants to touch him the way they always touch, like the other is Play-Dough or a jungle gym. Complacent, grasping, familiar touches. Liam wants to smack his arse and pull his hair. But Louis can barely get out of bed without feeling a queasy lurch of pain somewhere in his body. Stitches in the slit behind his cock, stitches in his abdomen, aches everywhere, stabbing pains, bleeding. He feels like a pincushion.

“Are you getting hard?” he murmurs. He can feel Liam’s cock pressing up against him.

“Just a bit. Sorry. I’ll get rid of it.”

“Well, I feel shitty getting you going for nothing.”

“You didn’t. I’m just on a hair trigger, and you’re rubbing on me and crying and shit…”

“Me  _crying_  gets you hard?”

“No-o, it just makes me feel, y’know, love for you, is all.”

Louis is touched. “Love makes you hard?” he says softly.

“Yeah…” Liam squeezes him tighter in his arms. “You don’t get that?”

“No, I do. Like if I haven’t seen you in a bit, and I see you again, and you smile at me… yeah, that gets me going.”

“Exactly.”

“I swear we’ll do something soon. Just not tonight.”

“Okay.” Liam kisses the back of his neck. “I just don’t want us to be one of those couples that’s got a bunch of kids and goes all sexless.”

“We’ll never go all sexless, love. We both like sex too much.”

Liam laughs. “You’re right. Alright… let’s get some sleep while we can.”

“Yeah.”

 

CALABASAS, MAY 6, 2025

Liam, in an act of sainthood, has offered to take the twins to the park by himself for a while while the kids are at school. Louis isn’t even sure what to do with his alone time; he watches TV for a bit, then decides he wants to be outside. He’s lying out next to the pool, squinting at his phone and Googling “ _is smoking bad for breast milk_?” “ _is smoking weed bad for breast milk_?” when Niall calls him.

“Hey lad,” Louis says, stroking Bo, who’s stretched out next to him in the grass.

“Hi there,” Niall says, all cheery. “How are ya?”

“Ah, not dead yet.”

“Good old Tommo, always with the sunny outlook.”

“Yeah, well.”

“I called ‘cos Winnie’s breathing down my neck about this — I’m just makin’ sure you two are gonna be at the wedding?”

“Oh, yeah!” Louis exclaims. “Absolutely. We wouldn’t miss it, I promise.”

“Alright. I wouldn’t take it personally if you did, you know.”

“Neil, we’re coming! No way I’m missing your fuckin’ wedding.”

“You got the babies all squared away?”

“Yeah, yeah, they’ll stay with Liam’s folks, then we’ll take ‘em to see my family day after the weddin’. It’s all good. Everyone wants to meet them, and me and him are gonna need a day off to drink and chill and all that.”

“Good, good,” Niall says, sounding relieved. “So how are your lima beans?”

“Liam included, or just the babies?”

He laughs. “All of ‘em.”

“Liam’s alright. You know how he is when he’s sleep-deprived, gets a bit silly. Babies are doing well… Patrick’s still small, but his weight’s been comin’ up the past couple days.”

“Oh, good, good,” Niall says. “Gotta be nice and strong so he can drive the snakes out of Ireland.”

“Ha, ha ha.”

“Joking. I know you’ve had your knickers twisted over him.”

“Knickers are still a bit twisted.”

“You worry too much, Lou.”

Bo gets up and trots off to the trees to sniff a bush and have a wee. Louis watches him go. “You’ll get it when you have kids,” he says.

“I’m lookin’ forward to that,” Niall says, his voice warm.

“You’ll be a good dad, you. Teach ‘em all sorts of obscure facts and skills.”

“That’s me, the anorak.”

“Yeah,” Louis says with fondness. “I miss you, mate.”

“Miss you too! What’s with all the sentiment?”

“Aw, just me hormones. And I do miss you! I used to see you so much more, then you went and moved on me!”

“I know, I know. Hey, if you wanna bring the babies to the wedding — if that’d make you feel better —“

“No, no, they’re way too young for that,” Louis says. He sits up and slips his shoes off, then rolls his joggers up and dips his feet into the crystalline glittering surface of the pool. The water feels nice on his achy ankles and feet. “Appreciate the offer, though.”

“Just Liam mentioned you had a little separation anxiety.”

“Oi!” Louis exclaims. “You two talk about me?”

“Ahh, it was one text,” Niall scoffs. “It was when I kept trying to FaceTime you and you weren’t pickin’ up, I texted Payno to make sure you weren’t dead and he said you were holed up with your boys.”

“You know I never pick up FaceTimes, anyway. No, I can be away from ‘em for one day.”

“Alright, just checking,” Niall says with a smile in his voice.

“Fuck off, you.”

Niall laughs.

In the background, Louis hears, “NIALL! I said I needed your help out back, love!”

“I’m on t’ phone with Louis,” Niall shouts back.

“Well, are ya done?” Winnie’s tinny voice rings across the line. “‘Cos it’s about to rain!”

“I’ll be done when I’m done!”

Louis snorts. “Bold move.”

“Can you tell me, Niall, who the hell d’you think you’re talking tae with that tone on ya?” she yells, but she sounds fairly lighthearted about it. “And hullo, Louis!”

“Hi Winnie,” Louis says, despite that no one is actually listening to him.

“Ahh, alright, I’m coming, I’m coming…” Niall clears his throat and says a bit sheepishly into the receiver, “I gotta go, lad.”

“Go, go help the missus.”

“I’ll text you, yeah?”

“Yeah, send me a pic when they finish with your tux, I wanna see how it came out.”

“Will do!”

“Cheers.”

“Cheers, Tommo.”

Louis hangs up and tosses his phone aside, then splashes his feet in the pool like a little kid.

 

*

 

Liam returns from the park to find Louis in the den, watching  _Eastbound and Down_  from where he’s curled up on the couch, his sweatshirt hiked up and the pec pump hooked up to his nipples.

“Yo,” Louis says.

“Hey,” Liam says. “Twins are down, for now.”

Louis nods. “Is Agnes gonna grab the other ones?”

He laughs. “‘The other ones…’”

“Our seventeen other children.”

“ _Seventeen_?”

Louis laughs. “Three, seventeen, whatever. Come keep me company, I hate doin’ this shit.”

Liam goes over and sits down next to him, the leather squeaking under his bum. He lifts Louis’ sweatshirt and looks at the pumps. “Not much coming out, is there?”

“I know,” Louis says, muting the TV. “Think I’m near to drying up already.”

“That’s alright,” Liam says.

“Yeah.” Louis settles back into the corner of the couch, spreading his arms out over the plush cushions. “D’you know that before they had formula, when men had twin babies, if they didn’t have a wet nurse one of them’d usually  _die_?”

“Really?” Liam says, settling a hand on his thigh and glancing over at him.

“Yeah. Sometimes they’d even just take the littler one and leave it in a field or somethin’, to die.”

Liam’s mouth falls open. “That  _can’t_  be true! Where d’you even read this shit?”

“Articles!” Louis retorts. “There’s all sorts of articles about it! They found little baby skeletons in —“

“Lalalalala!” Liam claps his hands to his ears. “Gah! Please!”

“Anyway,” Louis says, disgruntled, and shifts in his seat. He adjusts one of the pumps, then winces. “Fuckin’ sucking me fuckin’ nipples off…”

“Is that why you’re so worried about Paddy, you think we’re gonna have to leave him in a field to die?”

“Maybe subconsciously, I am! Maybe me brain’s like, gone all fucked up on me ‘cos I know I couldn’t keep both of ‘em alive, ‘cos I haven’t got tits!”

“But intellectually, you do realize we can.”

“‘Course, Liam, but this shit’s not intellectual,” Louis says. “It’s all instinct, whatever…” He gestures at his heart, then his face flushes, and tears spring to his eyes.

“Oh, Tommo…” Liam reaches out and squeezes his bicep.

Louis exhales and sniffles. “I’m not crying, I swear.”

“You can cry if you need to.”

“But I’m  _not_ , that’s what narks me,” he exclaims. “I’m not actually upset at all. It just comes out of me.”

Liam runs his tongue over his teeth. “Lemme try it,” he says. “The pumpy.”

Louis gives him a double take, then laughs, sniffs again, and starts easing one of the shields off his nipple. “Careful though, lad,” he says. “You get stimulated enough, it might actually start milkin’ you.”

“Can I make milk?” Liam says, amazed.

“‘Course you can. Everyone can, it’s the human condition. You remember  _Meet The Parents_?” Louis does an amusingly lousy little De Niro impression. “Could you milk me, Greg?”

Liam laughs. Louis hands him the free pump, and Liam works at putting it onto himself like he’s seen his fiancé do. It takes a few tries, and he’s fumbly from lack of sleep, but he gets it on.

It starts gently tugging at his nipple. Liam sits there, taking stock of the odd sensation. “Weird,” he declares after a moment.

“Yeah,” Louis agrees.

Liam peels the pump back off. “How long you been at this?”

“‘Bout an hour.”

He reaches up under Louis’ sweatshirt and takes the other one off of him, then sets the whole apparatus on the couch beside them.

“Wait,” Louis protests as Liam moves in on him, “we ‘ave to get those bottles in the fridge —“

“They’ll keep a minute, love.” Liam slips his arms around Louis’ waist and criss-crosses them behind him, enveloping his rib cage. Then he presses a deep kiss to his mouth.

Louis softens and reaches up to touch Liam’s face. “This puts you in a romantic mood, really?” he whispers when they separate. “Baby skeletons and me as a dairy cow?”

Liam nuzzles their noses together. “No,” he says, “I just like you, and you haven’t been letting me kiss you...”

Louis wraps his arms around Liam’s neck. “Alright.”

They snog some more, hard, biting at each other’s lips and grinding as much as they can without shifting position. Liam drops his head and starts kissing Louis’ neck, sucking gently.

“God,” Louis sighs.

“I wanna make you feel good,” Liam murmurs, thrusting against him and dragging his teeth over Louis’ throat. “I wanna — I miss you —“

“I know, love, but we can’t do that yet… I know what you want, and we can’t…”

Frustration balls up in Liam’s chest, and he sighs and sags against Louis. Louis strokes his hair.

“We ‘ave to put this milk in the fridge,” he mutters.

Liam’s mind is still on sex. He fruitlessly grabs a handful of Louis’ sweatshirt. “You’re cute,” he says.

Louis grins at him, flashing his teeth. “I’m cute, currently?”

“You’re always cute, Tommo, but yeah. I like you scruffy. Like you curvy.”

“Oh, I must be fuckin’ irresistible to you right now, then.”

Liam tightens his fist a little to confirm this.

“Wanna sixty-nine tonight?” Louis suggests. “If we aren’t too tired?”

He releases his grip and sighs. “Sure.”

 

*

 

They manage to all have dinner as a family (something that’s been eluding them for days now) and settle into the den to watch  _Impractical Jokers,_ the one show that all five of them are able to agree on (Liam thinks the humor is a bit risqué for the kids, but Louis knows they see worse on the Internet anyway).

Louis has been trying to clip Max’s fingernails for the entire day, but he kept getting interrupted, whether by Max bursting into tears, Patrick bursting into tears, or someone else needing something. So he brings him down into the den and sets him in his lap, gets out the wee clippers and says, “No one bother me for the next ten minutes.”

Mia peers over at him after he’s been at it for a while. “Does that hurt him?”

“No, love.” Max takes his moment of distraction to wriggle in his grip, yanking his hand away, and Louis lets out a sigh. “I clipped  _your_  nails when you were a baby. They’re too long, he keeps scratching his face up.”

Louis gets a grip around Max’s little wrist, and Max fusses.

Liam finally takes stock of what’s happening and scoots over to the end of the couch. “I’ll hold him,” he says.

“So what if he scratches his face?” Amir says, after they’ve been struggling with this for a while. He sounds as frustrated as usual with this whole baby thing.

“‘Cos  _that_  hurts him,” Louis says, working very carefully to clip Max’s tiny index finger nail. Max huffs in unhappiness.

“Why’s he do it if it hurts him?” Sunday says, glancing over at them.

“He doesn’t know any better, love,” Louis says.

“I think we’ve got it, Tommo,” Liam whispers. “I think he’s good. We don’t need to do the pinkies, they’re so tiny.”

Louis sighs. “Okay.”

Liam hoists Max in the air and blows raspberries on his tummy, making him burble and kick his feet.

“Why do you have to do all this stuff for them?” Amir says. “Can’t Agnes do it? Isn’t that the point of being rich?”

Louis meets his eyes sternly. Amir gives him a defiant look that makes him resemble Zayn.

“There’s no ‘point’ to being rich,” he says, “It just is what it is. She does help, but there’s things I’d rather do myself. This is all the same stuff I did for you and your sister, alright? They’re just needy right now.”

“They came too soon,” Mia explains to Amir. “They aren’t supposed to be out of Dad yet. So they need more attention.”

“Why’re they out early, anyway?” Amir says.

“‘Cos Dad was gonna explode,” Mia says, with all the confidence in the world.

Sunday drags her gaze from the TV to look at her, baffled. “Explode?”

Louis laughs hard at this. Liam does too, accidentally jostling Max, who he’s laid on his chest. “That’s not quite — I wasn’t gonna  _explode_.”

Max hiccups. Louis reaches over and pats him on the back.

“You’re getting nice and chunky, aren’t you?” he says fondly to him.

“Chunky bo-oy,” Liam sings.

“Chunky chunky.”

“Shh,” Amir says. “I wanna hear Sal’s punishment.”

Sunday nods to corroborate this.

“Alright, alright,” Louis says, and leans into Liam, who wraps an arm around him. They both sit there making faces at Max, and he stares up at them in curiosity.

“Hey,” Mia says to Amir. “Don’t touch my phone.”

Louis glances up.

“I’m not!” Amir exclaims, elbowing Mia, who’s now holding her phone as far away from him as she can. “I was moving it!”

She glares at him, her jaw set. “You  _weren’t_ , you were looking at it, you’re always trying to read my texts!”

“I’m not! Shut up!”

Sunday anxiously scoots to the left on the couch, not wanting to get caught up in an obviously brewing fight.

“Kids,” Louis says sternly.

It’s too late, though: Mia and Amir start whaling on each other, shrieking incoherent insults. Louis feels a wave of crushing fatigue just at the thought of intervening, but Liam holds a hand up to him and stands, then goes over to the maelstrom of children and separates them, scooping Amir up into his arms.

“Stop,” Amir wails, slapping at Liam’s bicep. “It’s not fair, she started it!”

Max fusses, and Louis runs a soothing hand over his head, murmuring to him.

“I’m not punishing you,” Liam says to him. “I’m just stopping you killing your sister.”

“Tell him to quit touching my freaking stuff!” Mia yowls, lunging off the couch and trying to slap at Amir.

Liam hoists Amir out of her reach. “Mia, stop it! Stop!”

“ _Mia_ ,” Louis bellows.

She stops and turns to him, looking innocent.

“Go to your room,” he orders.

“Dad!”

“ _Now_! We are not in the mood for this shit!”

“Make Amir go to his room!” Mia shouts, tearing up from frustration.

Louis sighs. “You’re all going to bed in twenty minutes anyway, what does it matter if you go now? Go cool down, go get calm. I’ll check on you when I come up, alright?”

Mia glares at him, tears now rolling down her cheeks, then turns on her heel and storms out of the room.

Liam comes back over to the couch and sets Amir back down with a small thump. Amir swipes his floppy dark hair back from his face, looking pleased with himself. Sunday eyes him with that same scandalized only child look.

“Hey,” Louis says to him. “Don’t hit your sister.”

“She hit me!”

“Even then...” Max lets out a cry, and Louis collects him up into his arms, shushing and rocking him. Liam glances over at them, looking tired.

 

*

 

Louis is spitting toothpaste in their bathroom’s big marble sink when Liam comes up behind him and touches him on the hips.

At first he thinks Liam wants him to move, so he dances to the side, but Liam holds him fast.

“Still up for it?” he says.

“What?” Louis says, rinsing his toothbrush and making eye contact with Liam in the mirror.

“Sixty-nine,” Liam says hopefully.

“Ohh.”

“C’mon…” Liam kisses the crook of his neck. “Don’t you wanna come?”

“I mean, I don’t  _need_  to… I jerked off in the shower this mornin’.”

Liam’s mouth drops open in offense. “You didn’t tell me that earlier!”

“Didn’t seem relevant!”

“What’d you think about when you were jerking off? Me?”

“Iskra Lawrence,” Louis answers honestly. “And then David Beckham, a bit.”

“Wow,” Liam says. “What a betrayal. Did he at least have my same haircut like last time?”

Louis hesitates. “Yes,” he lies.

This doesn’t get past Liam’s bullshit detector. “Tommo-o!”

“I’m sorry,” he groans. “I’m so tired.”

“If we come, we’ll sleep better.”

“But we’ll be up in two hours anyway, what’s the point of sleeping better?”

Liam presses his face into Louis’ shoulder. “You depress me,” he mumbles.

“Aight, you wanna blow each other? Let’s blow each other.”

Louis slips out of his grip and heads back into their bedroom, slipping on a track jacket he left on the floor and righting himself before he falls. He tears his joggers off, kneels on the bed, and rips his boxers down off his arse, then throws them at Liam’s face as Liam walks out of the bathroom.

Liam bats them down, laughing. “You gone Winnie-the-Pooh on me?”

“Huh?”

“Trousers off, shirt on?”

Louis groans. “Shut the light, then.”

Liam complies and pads over to him through the thick darkness, kneeling next to him on the bed. They have a kiss, and Louis closes his eyes. One of the babies makes a soft sound in his sleep. Liam starts tugging Louis’ shirt up off of him; Louis doesn’t fight him, but he tenses up.

“Hey,” Liam murmurs, kissing his cheek. “Lemme touch you, lemme look at you. I love you, I want to look at you.”

Louis makes a noise that gets caught in his chest. “I don’t feel like me,” he whispers. “My body doesn’t feel like mine. You don’t get it.”

“I’ve felt like that… after we’d get mobbed, grabbed in crowds, chased...”

“It’s different from that.”

“You feel like you don’t belong to yourself, right?”

“Liam, this is different. You know I hate bitching about this, but it’s hard… I’m so tired, I’m so sore. And I’d got used to being thin and tightened up again… I’ve forgot what it’s like, this...”

“You look great.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I swear to God, you do. You look like you did before.”

“ _Please.”_

“You know I love you so much,” Liam says, studying him. Louis’ eyes have adjusted to the dark, and he can see the sincere look on Liam’s tired face. “You know how sexy I find you. Even when you drive me crazy. Feel this hard-on, love, this is for you. Feel what you do to me.”

“I just don’t wanna be in me head when we’re having sex, y’know? I want the opposite.”

Liam leans down and kisses him on the tummy. It isn’t quite flat yet; he still looks a few months pregnant.

“I got a third baby in there for ya,” Louis says drily. “Surprise.”

“Ple-ease…” Liam lays his cheek against Louis’ skin and reaches up to caress his hip, rubbing at the little curve he’s got there. “Why’ve you got such a thick Yorkshire head?”

“Goes with me thick Yorkshire bum.”

Liam laughs at this, and Louis smiles. He loves to make Liam laugh.

Liam laces his fingers with Louis’ so their black engagement bands line up. “I’d love a third baby of yours, angel… fourth baby, fifth baby, sixth baby…”

“You want us to have  _nine_  children, lad?”

“Let’s just make it an even ten.”

“Oh, fantastic. Honestly, if I hadn’t tied me tubes, that’s probably where we’d end up.”

Liam laughs and kisses Louis’ knuckles. “If you don’t want to do anything, let’s not do anything… I just miss you, is all. Normally you want to have sex even more often than I do.”

Louis rolls onto his side on the bed and army crawls so he’s down near Liam’s cock. He pulls his own boxers off him and starts stroking it.

“Hey,” Liam says. “You really don’t have to —“

“Nah, I want to. I miss you too. Got my own hard-on here, lad, feel it.”

“Okay,” Liam says, his voice soft, and he starts stroking Louis back.

It does feel nice. In the dark, his eyes squeezed shut and the only sensory input being the cock in his mouth, Liam’s mouth on his own cock, and a hand massaging his balls, he can pretend everything is like normal.

After a bit, Louis hears the cap come off a bottle of lube, then Liam sliding a finger inside him. He lets out a soft, pleased sigh, hoping Liam is just doing that to hasten him along, and not because he thinks Louis is going to let him stick it in.

But he clearly doesn’t. He just fingers Louis gently for a while while they suck on each other, making obscene sounds in the quiet. They usually fuck with music on, but that would wake the babies.

Liam was lobbying the other day for the twins to start spending nights down the hall in the nursery, but Louis found himself reacting to this as if he’d suggested they shoot them into space. So Liam dropped it and hasn’t brought it up since.

Liam comes before he does, which is fair, since he was more pent up. Louis reaches his arm down across the end of the bed and fishes around on the floor for an item of clothing; he pulls up a cheap old shirt of his that he wears when he burps the twins, and spits Liam’s semen into it.

Liam lets out a garbled protest at an item of clothing being used as a Kleenex.

“Whatever,” Louis says, rolling into his back. “Who gives a shit…”

Liam licks a stripe up his cock and crooks a finger inside him. Louis mewls and writhes under him, pleasure zinging his spine like it’s a marimba.

“I give a shit,” he says, before taking Louis back into his mouth.

Louis giggles and fists his hand in Liam’s hair. “You like it,” he teases. “You like when I’m disgustin’…”

Liam returns to massaging his bollocks with his free hand, and between that and the fingering, Louis is so overstimulated that his eyelids flutter.

“I’m gonna come,” he moans.

Liam makes a soft, throaty sound, as if to encourage him.

Louis comes, then, tightening his grip on Liam’s hair and crying out. He feels a great, unclenching relief sweep over his body. He thinks he needed that hit of dopamine even more badly than he thought.

Liam quickly swallows and hisses, “Shh,” as a dribble of come runs over his lip and down his chin.

“Sorry,” Louis sighs. He forgot about the twins for a second.

Liam wipes his mouth. “Feel better?”

“I actually do, yeah.”

Louis sits up and uses the shirt he spat in to wipe himself off, then offers it to Liam while he leans over to pull his boxers on.

Liam laughs. “This is so nasty… this already has spit-up on it!”

“Oh, you big baby.”

“Alright, alright…” Liam swipes his mouth with the tail end of the shirt.

Louis collapses against him and snuggles up between two pillows, using Liam as a third one. Liam nuzzles into his collarbone, kissing him, then thumbs a white fleck off his pec. “What’s this, you reckon?” he says. “My come, or your breast milk?”

“Taste it,” Louis suggests.

“Eurgh!”

“Baby, absolute baby man. You’ve tasted both those things before!”

“Fine,” Liam relents, and sticks his thumb in his mouth, then grimaces. “It’s my come.”

Louis nuzzles into his neck, giggling. Liam strokes his head and presses a kiss to his temple; Louis reaches up and plays with his chest hair.

“I love you too,” he says. “Sorry, you said it before, I didn’t say it back…”

He always says it back, even when he’s furious. They’ve screamed it at each other from the other side of slammed doors, then cracked up laughing. They never go to bed angry, no matter what.

Liam noses at his cheekbone, then bites his ear. Louis tilts his head awkwardly so they can kiss, and they do, tasting each other.

 

CALABASAS, MAY 7, 2025

It’s dawn when Liam wakes for the third time. He lies there, eyes fuzzy and ears pricked, but he doesn’t hear crying. He does hear suckling and snuffling.

Liam rolls over and glances at Louis. He’s still shirtless, leaning back on a stack of pillows with Patrick cradled to his chest, his little head bobbing right under the 78.

He watches them for a moment, squinting, waiting for his brain to come back online. “Wait… are you nursing him?”

Louis’ eyes flutter open, and he glances over at him. “Just a bit,” he whispers back. “Just this once… too fuckin’ tired to go down for a bottle…”

“You’re holding him sort of funny,” Liam points out. “Like a football? American football.”

“Payno, I’m so fuckin’ tired…”

Liam leans over and adjusts his arm so he’s supporting Patrick better. Louis looks blearily down at the baby, then tips his head back again, closing his bloodshot eyes.

“This is nice,” Liam says, smiling at them. “Sweet.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Louis says hoarsely. “Feels like he’s tryin’ to tear me nipple off…”

Patrick stops and writhes in his arms, letting out a needy squall.

“What,” Louis says, blinking.

“Maybe you’re dry?”

“Oh.” Louis clumsily swaps him into the crook of the opposite arm, then cradles his head and pushes it toward his other nipple. It’s clearly hard for him to get the right angle against his flat chest.

Patrick fusses.

“Take i-it,” he groans, lolling his head sideways on the pillow.

“I can go get a bottle,” Liam suggests.

Louis exhales. “Sure,” he says.

“Unless you wanna keep trying…”

“Nah, shouldn’t be doin’ this anyway, need to just let meself run dry for good…”

Liam slides out of bed with a groan, stumbles over to check on Max (he’s still asleep) and scrubs a hand over his stubbly face. He wanders downstairs. The house is hazy and airy at this time of day, more peaceful than it ever is when the kids are awake. Slants of pale dawn light are streaming in through all their massive windows.

He walks across the heated kitchen floor, pulls open the fridge and fetches a bottle, then sticks it on the bottle warmer. He leans onto the kitchen counter, pressing his cheek against the cool marble.

The bottle warmer beeps.

“Gracias,” Liam murmurs to it.

He staggers back upstairs, down the hall and into their room, where he finds Louis has fallen asleep with Patrick clutched to his chest.

“Louis,” he whispers.

Louis jerks awake. “Zuh.”

“Zuh?” Liam says, coming over and perching next to him, handing him the formula.

Louis takes it and shifts Patrick so he can ease the bottle into his mouth. His hair is standing on end in several spots. “Cheers.”

“Sure.” Liam strokes one of the cowlicks in an attempt to tamp it down, but it springs back up. “Your hair thicker, lately?”

“Yeah. Always, after baby.”

“You’re losing your verbs,” Liam points out.

Louis laughs. “Too tired for verbs.”

Patrick finally accepts the bottle and resumes suckling.

“Alright?” Louis says to him. “Fuckin’ hungry this morning.”

“That’s good,” Liam says.

“It is good,” Louis murmurs, stroking Patrick’s cheek with a knuckle.

“Y’know, I actually had a dream about you nursing, the other night.”

“Oh did you, you weirdo?”

“How’s that so weird, come on — you once had a dream about me where I was a policeman with octopus arms and I arrested you, then Bieber killed me with his car!”

“Fair point, go on.”

Liam settles against the pillows. “It was like… we were out to dinner with Cole and Ana, and Zayn’s mum, for some reason? At this fancy place… and we had Max there, and he cried, and you just whipped your shirt off and started feeding him right at the table. And I was like, babe, you maybe wanna go in the bathroom? And you got sooo angry with me.”

Louis laughs. “Zayn’s mum was there, you said? That’s funny.”

“Yeah. She was on your side, she threw a dinner roll at me.”

“Sounds about right.” Louis shifts Patrick in his arms and then tilts the bottle up a bit. “She’s always liked me for some reason... even after I did a runner on her son...”

“Well, you did give her two very nice grandchildren.”

“S’pose I did.” Louis smiles down at Patrick. “Can’t believe I have four little nuggets now.”

Liam clears his throat. “I know I’ve said this about a billion times now, but I’m like, deliriously happy.”

“I know, Payno. I’m glad. I like to make you happy.”

“But I want you to be happy, too.”

“I am, love. Very much so.”

“You sure?”

Louis nods slowly.

“I wish I could make things less complicated for you,” Liam says.

“I'm always gonna be a bit more complicated than you, mate, nothing we can do about that."

"Yeah." Liam pauses. "Wait, you calling me simple?"

Louis meets his eyes and smiles impishly; Liam gives him the finger.

 

*

 

Louis makes it down for breakfast that morning, heroically. His nipple’s terribly chafed now, so he rubbed on some of the prescription shit they gave him then slapped a band-aid over it, and now he’s watching around feeling quite silly under his shirt. Like he’s a pirate with an eyepatch on, but a nipple patch.

It’s more chaotic than normal. Mia’s in a fight with a few of her pals, so she’s refusing to go to school — she wears last year’s paramedic Halloween costume down to breakfast, and when Louis tells her to change, she comes back down dressed as a tiger, which makes him light up at her and her start crying that nothing in life is fair.

Sunday woke up with a bad cold, so Liam is refusing to touch her lest they cross-contaminate the babies, which is making Sunday cry because she doesn’t feel well and wants a hug. (Liam ends up hugging her with a dust mask on his face and oven mitts on his hands, then sends her back to bed and calls the school to get her out of class.)

And Amir “forgot” to do most of his homework.

“Does this have anything to do with the fact that you were up past your bedtime playing that shooty game?” Louis says to him as comes back into the dining room, having refilled his coffee.

“No,” Amir lies, setting his pencil down on the stack of papers in front of him and picking at his waffles some more.

“Mia,” they hear Liam shout from the hallway, “take that footie uniform off!”

“NO,” she bellows. “I’m not going! Call them back and tell them to make Bianca transfer to another school!”

“That’s not reasonable!”

“It’s  _my_  school!”

“You’re being ridiculous!”

“You’re not my dad! You can’t call me ridiculous!”

 _Stomp stomp stomp_ up the stairs. Liam sighs gustily, and they hear him head up after her.

Louis massages his temple. “What’s the problem?” he says to Amir. “You never don’t do your homework. And is this maths you haven’t done, here? Why? You’re great at math.”

“I don’t like what we’re doing right now,” Amir says. “Can you do it for me?”

Louis looks blankly at the worksheet in his hand. It might as well be written in Mandarin. “I don’t want you scare you,” he says, “but at this point, you might be better at maths than your poor old dad.”

“No way,” Amir says.

“I’m afraid so.”

“But I’m eight!”

Mia bolts through the dining room, then, and out into the other hallway, still wearing her football uniform. Liam chases after her with a handful of normal clothes, shouting, “Mims! Please!”

Louis and Amir watch them come and go with mild interest.

“Never underestimate my ability to be on the level of an eight-year-old, in any sense,” Louis says, as if nothing just happened.

Amir lets out a massive sigh and takes the worksheet back from him, picking up his pencil and returning to work.

 

*

 

They do, eventually, get Mia off to school with a semi-normal outfit on (she insisted on at least wearing a tiny custom-made Harley Davidson jacket Zayn bought her, so Louis fully expects to get a phone call about ‘appropriate school attire’) and Amir off to school with at least two thirds of his homework done and a promise extracted from him that he’ll try to finish the remainder in homeroom.

“Bye!” they call, waving from the front step as Agnes pulls out of the circular driveway and onto the road.

Liam has a hangout planned with a few of his friends, one of whom is an electropop artist who’s looking to collaborate with him a second time, so Louis checks on Sunday while her father is in the bathroom slapping cologne on his face and pounding a Red Bull.

“Feeling any better?” he says gently, lingering at the foot of her bed.

Sunday sniffles and nods. She has a cool washcloth on her forehead; it slips down over her eyes as her head moves.

“Want me to freshen that for you?” Louis says, coming over and fetching it.

“Okay.”

He goes downstairs and dunks it in a bowl full of ice water, so it’s nice and cold. The twins, at least momentarily, are calm — he has his tablet connected to the baby monitor and rolled up in his sweatpants pocket.

Louis heads back up and places it on her forehead, patting it down so it doesn’t move again.

“Need anything else, love?” he says.

“I’m okay,” Sunday says. “Can you tell me a story?”

“Ahh… a story…” He worries at his lip with his teeth. “Anything in particular?”

“Just something that happened to you once?”

A G-rated life story, that’s not as easy as it sounds. Louis thinks about it for a moment, then says, “Alright. I got one.”

He tells her a story about her dad, because he thinks she’ll appreciate that — the time Liam got locked in the tour bus toilet without his phone and they all just assumed he’d gone to sleep, then slowly realized over the course of an hour that he was missing.

Sunday gazes up at him as she listens. He does funny voices for the rest of the band and their bodyguards, and that makes her smile.

Louis wonders sometimes about her and about the baby he lost, the baby he was never supposed to have. Maybe she’s why. Maybe she was always supposed to be his fifth child, not out of blood but out of need. A little stowaway in his heart.

He thinks that if (God forbid) something happened to Liam, he’d fight her mum for at least partial custody of her. He wouldn’t want to, that would be an absolute nightmare, but he’d do it. She needs to be nurtured and reassured. She needs someone who knows how to cheer her up, make her laugh.

“Soup later?” Sunday says.

“Soup later,” he agrees. He tucks her blanket up around her and leaves her be, shutting her light off and pulling her door shut as softly as he can.

When Louis heads back into his and Liam’s room, Liam has already gone downstairs, but he’s left a pair of jeans laid out on the bed. Louis arches an eyebrow and picks them up, then goes off to find him.

Liam is in the foyer, still wearing boxers, fiddling with his Rolex clasp. “I can’t get this,” he says, glancing up at Louis.

Louis tosses the jeans over his shoulder and leans in, squinting at the clasp in the bright mid-morning light pouring in the windows. “Here,” he mutters, pushing it into place with a satisfying click.

“Thanks, babe...”

Louis gives Liam a once-over; he missed a button, and there’s a gap at chest-level. He starts unbuttoning and rebuttoning him.

“I’m a mess,” Liam says.

“A bit. I’ll get you sorted.”

“I never got back to sleep after I got that bottle for Paddy, dunno why…”

“Oh, poor lad.”

“Yeah, definitely been more alert.”

“Not driving, are you?”

“I called a driver.”

“Good boy.” Louis pats him on the chest. “You’re set.”

“Fantastic,” Liam says, and turns to head out the door.

“Payno!” Louis exclaims, and holds up the jeans when he turns. “You wanna put on some trousers?”

Liam looks down at his boxers and bare legs. “Jesus,” he says, coming back to grab them.

Louis laughs as he watches him shimmy into them. “Honestly… that five years you had without me — how the fuck did you even function?”

“Barely did,” Liam says as he does his fly, smiling.

This warms Louis’ heart, even if Liam’s just telling him what he wants to hear; he tips his head up to give him a kiss.

“Good,” he says, pulling back. “Don’t have to worry about you running off, then.”

“No, you don’t have to worry about that.”

Louis swats him on the thigh. “Now get the fuck out of here. Go enjoy yourself.”

“I will,” Liam promises.

 

*

 

Liam feels sort of lousy for it, but it’s a massive relief to be out with his friends, and even to be away from Louis a bit. He’s forgotten what it was like to just be a guy, and not a wrung-out mop, a dad-husband android invented to carry things from place to place.

It’s just an day of carousing with a few of his friends from his label, as well as Tyler, a DJ/producer/singer-songwriter who has collabed with Liam before and would like to again. But it might as well be a week-long sojourn to Ibiza for how much it energizes him.

They’re on their third stop, a rooftop bar, when Liam takes a moment over by the edge to check his phone. He’s tipsy already — he’s a lightweight now, hasn’t drank like this in ages. He has a few texts, but nothing from Louis except a DM replying to an Instagram story he posted from Topgolf.  _having fun without me, dickhead? xx,_  he said. Liam types back,  _yes :P,_ and Louis replies immediately,  _Quit replying to me while you’re out !! Ignore me !!!!!!_

Liam finds this more funny than anything. There’s really no one he’d rather talk to than Louis, but for the sake of argument he closes out Insta and starts answering the texts he’s got.

Tyler meanders over to him after a while, handing him the half-full glass of beer he left behind.

“Oh, thanks mate,” Liam says, and takes a long swig.

Tyler nods. “You got some important correspondence?”

“Nah, just the usual. Mike hit me up, said he’s trying to meet up with us later.”

“Fuck yeah, I love Mike.”

“Same, he’s great.”

“You checking in at home, at all?” Tyler says cannily.

Liam laughs. “No, no. I did just talk to Louis, but I swear, no baby stuff.”

“Alright.” He lifts the hand with his beer in it, pointing at him fake-menacingly. “You did promise.”

“I’m keeping it, I am.”

“So, how’s it been going with you guys?” Tyler says. “‘Cos I know, like — me and Marco weren’t, y’know, still together when we had Jason, but it was a crazy time for us anyway.”

Liam sets his beer down on the ledge and looks out over the twinkling sprawl of Los Angeles. “Right… how is Jason, by the way?”

“Good, good. He just started walking, he’s funny as shit.”

“Yeah, I got your snap of him the other day, it was cute.”

“Uh-huh.” Tyler nudges him. Liam glances over; a breeze rolls by and ruffles his hair as he does. “I asked you first.”

Liam laughs. “We’re fine. We’re tired, but we’ve both been through this before. And two’s so much harder.”

“Right.”

“Louis’ good. He’s tough.”

“You back having sex yet?”

He makes a hand gesture to indicate ‘sort of’.

“He’s not into it?” Tyler says.

“We haven’t, like, been cleared for takeoff yet. But yeah, he’s kind of…” Liam clears his throat. “It’ll normal out.”

He thinks of how bafflingly insecure Louis is lately, and how he’s not quite been himself since the twins arrived. He’s still Louis, but behind a sheet of glass, or something.

But maybe this is normal, maybe this is just how he gets. Liam has no idea. He has a vague memory of Louis post-partum in 2016 after the Brits, of him seeming profoundly sad in some way, pushing Liam away while tears sprang to his eyes. In his young, idealistic selfishness, Liam had let himself believe that those tears were ones of grief for their aborted relationship. But maybe they were about a lot more than that.

“At least you’re together, man,” Tyler says. “At least that’s like, the love of your life, and shit.”

“Yeah,” Liam says, nodding. “No, for sure.”

“That’s the dream, honestly.”

It is. He didn’t delude himself into thinking that’s what he’d had with Ceci, but he did think they could have been a family for a long time. Certainly much longer than they actually ended up being one. Liam had talked himself out of the thing he wanted most, which was true love and a real partner. He still isn’t sure how he managed that, except that he’s spent most of his life training in the art of self-denial.

He didn't dare think he and Louis would ever have each other again, not after he went back to Zayn for good. Louis staggering out of the car crash of that divorce and into his arms was one of the greatest shocks he’s ever had. No one thought it was a good idea at the time — not his family, not his friends, but he knew something they didn’t, which was that he’d happily die for Louis. And that sort of devotion is non-negotiable. You don’t tell that kind of thing to wait around until everyone’s done  _processing_ , right? You dive in like a maniac.

And Louis wanted him just as much. Sometimes, when they first got together, Liam was afraid he didn’t — but he kept waking up in the early morning hours to find Louis petting his hair and gazing at him with hunger on his face, like he couldn’t possibly get enough of looking at him.

“It is,” Liam says to Tyler. “It’s the dream.”

 

*

 

He doesn’t get back until around eleven. A dark sky, thick with smog, has settled over the palm trees like a heavy duvet. Liam looks out the window at the ocean as he takes a town car home, watching the moon’s reflection glitter on the surface of the water.

When they pull into the circular driveway, he thanks the driver and stumbles tipsily up to the front door, pressing his hand to the panel beneath the doorbell and then heading inside. It’s quiet again like it was this morning.

“Louis,” he calls out softly.

No answer, but as he heads down the hall, he notices the patio door at the end of it is slightly ajar.

He finds Louis outside, lying in the soft grass, smoking a cigarette. His phone’s lying next to him, blasting Amy Winehouse. Two bad signs.

“Hi,” Liam whispers.

Louis rolls over and looks up at him, clearly startled. “Hey,” he says, and reaches over to quiet the music. “Didn’t expect you back for a while.”

“Told ‘em to go on without me…” Liam comes over to him and sits next to him. He feels the dew soak through the bum of his jeans as soon as he does. Oh well. “I just couldn’t go any longer. Need some sleep.”

Louis reaches over and pats him on the thigh. “You have fun, though?”

“Yeah, loads of fun. How’s Sunday?”

“Better.”

“Good.”

“What have you been up to?”

“Nothing, really. Talked to Calvin and Oli for a bit… they were bantering about who’s gonna be me best man when we get hitched, I got tired of ‘em and said fuck it, it’s neither of you, then, it’s Lottie.”

Liam laughs. Louis offers him the cigarette, and he gratefully accepts. Nothing better when you’re drunk.

“I have quit,” Louis adds. “I swear. I just needed to smoke, after today.”

Liam exhales a ring of smoke. It curls and vanishes in the darkness. “You gonna start dumping the milk, then?”

“I think I’ve nearly run out, anyway.”

“I’m glad you did what you could for Patrick.”

“Yeah, me too. Think it helped him catch up with Max. Not that he’s full caught up yet, but.”

“He’s getting there.”

“Wee lad,” Louis says, and takes his cigarette back.

Liam settles down on the grass next to him. There are never any visible stars in the sky here, but he doesn’t quite mind. The polluted, uniform blanket is comforting. Wolverhampton’s starry night sky used to overwhelm him, when he was young and his life was much smaller.

“Talked to Niall, too,” Louis says. “This was earlier, forgot to tell you. Told him we’re definitely on for his wedding.”

“We don’t  _have_  to go,” Liam says.

“God, I got the same shit from him —I want to go, alright? I want to have some fun. I need a day off. It’ll be fine.”

Liam is surprised to hear the bite in his voice. “I was just saying.”

Louis smokes some more. Liam studies him, his eyes straining to pick up on the nuances of his expression with just the light of the moon.

“I’m tired of being treated like I’m this fragile hysteric,” Louis says. “Just ‘cos I’m hormonal and worried.”

“No one said you’re a fragile  _hysteric_ , Tommo! Come on…”

“There’s an implication,” he says, and sits up, taking a haughty drag off the cigarette.

“No, no.”

But Louis is clearly too moody to be reasoned with, so Liam falls silent.

“You’d be weird right now, too, if you were me,” Louis says, in that sort of probing, provoking way he has.

“I don’t doubt that at all. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the one to have a baby for us. I’d do it in a heartbeat if I could, you know that… I’m even sort of jealous of you.”

Louis snorts.

Liam sits up too, then. “I’m serious,” he says. “They’re so close with you, they always want you. You understand them better. You got to create life, and feel ‘em grow. I’m in awe of you, mate, I am. It’s like — what’s that Mac album? The divine something. Divine feminine. That’s what you are, in my life, you know? This like, force of creation… you drive me on, you make me better, you bring all this wonderful shit into being. I can’t write my feelings like you. I can’t mentor like you. I can’t make babies like you. You’ve got powers I don’t. I wish you wouldn’t discount this stuff the way you do, I wish you wouldn’t talk yourself down.”

“Not hard, to make babies,” Louis mutters, clearly not in the right frame of mind to really hear him. “Most women do it. Good amount of blokes do it.”

“But it’s incredible, and I’ll never know what that’s like, never. Not even with Sunday, and I’m the one who raised her after Cecilia checked out. But on some level she’s always gonna want her mum. Knowing that hurts.”

Louis softens. “I didn’t know you felt that way, love… I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well.”

Louis flicks his butt away.

“C’mon, don’t litter in the yard.”

“The  _yard_ ,” Louis mocks him in an American accent.

Liam pouts. “So, what — you just gonna be mean to me all night?”

“No. That was really lovely and kind, all that shit you just said. Gimme a kiss.”

Liam leans over and presses a kiss to his mouth. He tastes like tobacco.

“I’m sorry,” Louis murmurs, taking his face in his hands and nuzzling him. “I know I’ve been a bit crazy.”

“No, not crazy…”

“Yeah, crazy.”

“I love you, crazy boy,” Liam says.

Louis’ eyes crinkle. “I love you too. Glad you had fun tonight.”

Liam kisses him on the nose. “Me too. It’ll be nice to go out just us, again… I miss our date nights.”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

Louis drops his hands, then fishes another cigarette out of his jogger pockets and places it between his lips, lighting it.

“Hey,” Liam chides. “You start chaining again, you’re gonna start smoking again for real.”

“I can control myself.”

“You say that, but.”

“Alright, then I start smoking again! I did after me other kids, helped take the weight off.”

“So you’d like to die sooner?” Liam says in exasperation. “When we’ve got five kids to think about?”

“Please, with the guilt trip.”

“Look, I don’t want to fight with you. I don’t.”

Louis exhales. “Then don’t.”

“You could respect my wishes.”

“You could respect that I’m gonna do what I want with me own fuckin’ body.”

“It’s selfish to keep smoking,” Liam argues.

“Now I’m  _selfish_?”

“Smoking is, not you!”

Louis opens his mouth to retort, and then in the grass, his phone buzzes. They hear one of the twins fussing and crying over the baby monitor app.

“Motherfuck,” Louis mutters. He flicks his cigarette down and grinds it into the grass, then pops up and heads back toward the house.

Liam follows after him, sliding the glass door shut. “Hey,” he says.

“I said I’ve fucking quit,” Louis snaps without turning around. “Just ‘cos I made one off-hand joke doesn’t mean that’s not true. Not my fault you always take me so literally.”

“But you’re making it harder on yourself to quit if you keep doing it, was all I was saying!”

Their voices echo in the high-ceilinged, open plan house, bouncing off of windows and glass chandeliers.

“If it’s hard, then it’s hard!” Louis says, and wheels around as he starts up the stairs, his eyes flinty. Liam pauses at the bottom, clutching the banister. “That’s my own business! It’s me right to make shit hard for myself if I want to!”

“But I don’t  _want_  shit to be hard for you! What about that don’t you get?”

“Some shit  _is_  hard for me, Liam!” he shouts. “That’s just who I am! Whether I make it hard, or it just is! And I’m tired of everyone talking to me about my body like it’s theirs too!”

“Who’s doing that?”

“You! My doctor! That nurse in the hospital who wouldn't let me sleep! Everyone!”

They hear an echoing cry that comes at once from the nursery up the stairs, and the phone in Louis’ pocket.

Liam climbs up past his fiancé, not looking at him — he’s too frustrated to. He heads into the immaculately decorated nursery (white accents everywhere, elegant mobiles dangling from the ceiling that appear eerie in the low light) and finds that it’s Max who’s crying. He goes over and scoops him up, kissing his peach-fuzz head and murmuring to him.

Louis creeps into the room behind him. “What’s the problem?”

“Dunno… he’s not wet. Hungry?”

“Just fed them, and changed them both right before you got home.”

Liam looks down at Max, who snuffles. “You’re just crying to cry, then, huh love?”

“Maybe he just needs a cuddle,” Louis says. He goes over and sits on a pouf, rubbing at his eyes.

“I think you’re right.” Max’s cries are petering out; Liam keeps bouncing him and whispering his name, a hand wrapped securely around his back.

“Probably heard me yelling,” Louis mutters.

“Ahh, it’s alright, Tommo.”

Louis wipes at his eyes. Liam didn’t even realized they’d filled with tears again.

“Hey,” he says gently.

“I’m fine,” Louis says, his voice hoarse. “I swear. I just, like — nobody should be on this little sleep. Feel like I’m going insane.”

“Maybe we should use Agnes more,” Liam suggests. “Or hire a night nanny.”

“Why, so me kids can start calling some strange woman mum and want her at their footie games?”

“No, I didn’t mean that…”

“I knew all these sad fuckers,” Louis says. “We lived down the road from ‘em, me and Zayn did. They’d go shoppin’ all day while the nanny raised their kids, spend all day at the gym or whatever, and then the kids’d come over to our place to play, and if they got homesick or whatever it was always ‘where’s nanny Tatiana,’ never ‘where’s my mum, where’s my dad.’”

“Louis, I don’t want that either! We’ve discussed this!”

Max lets out a fussy noise. Liam begins to swing him gently while bouncing him.

“But you’re gonna want to go back to work soon,” Louis accuses him. “You’re already laying groundwork. You met with Tyler.”

“It was a pub crawl, not a business meeting!”

“Same shit! It’s all the same shit.”

“But you encourage my career,” Liam whispers, exasperated. “I don’t get it. You want me to be home with you and the kids, which I’d be happy to do more of, except then you say I shouldn’t fuck up the momentum I’ve had lately, and I agree — and then you say you want to get back to your career, which I support wholeheartedly, but you don’t want to leave the kids, and you always say your momentum’s been killed and it doesn’t matter anyway, and you should just stick to writing!”

“I know!”

“But what do you  _want_?”

“I don’t  _know_!” Louis whisper-shouts. “I don’t want you to leave me home all day, but I don’t want you hold you back, and I don’t want to never record or perform again, but I don’t want to be gone all the time and let a stranger do my job here!  _Fuck_  — you have no idea how fuckin’ hard this is, how conflicted I feel!”

Patrick makes a sound in his crib, and they freeze, but nothing more comes of it.

“Didn’t your mum bring you to work with her?” Liam whispers.

“God, Liam — when I was a kid, yeah, not a newborn baby! It’ll be years before I can drag them along to the studio with me! I don’t want to half-arse either thing, is the problem!”

“But you don’t want me to give up my career,” Liam says.

“Of course not! I want you happy and fulfilled and doing what you love!”

“But I want the same for you!”

“How did we end up with five kids?” Louis says, swiping at his eyes again. “Sometimes it’s like a waking fuckin’ nightmare. And I love them all to death, I do, I just feel like I’m drowning.”

This sentiment, and the tearful strain in his voice while he says it, scare the shit out of Liam. “It won’t always be like this.”

“No,” Louis says, blinking. A tear rolls down his cheek. “Just feels like it will.”

“Everything feels so much worse after ten p.m., too,” Liam says. “That’s originally why I started going to bed so early.”

Louis gives a hiccupy laugh and shakes his head.

Max has quieted down, despite their heated conversation. Liam kisses him on the head.

“Hi buddy,” he whispers to him. “Hi, my sweet boy. You my happy man? You gonna be nice and quiet for us tonight?”

More tears roll down Louis’ face as he looks at them. He looks sad, and younger than his years.

“Don’t cry,” Liam murmurs. “I hate seeing you cry.”

“I’m not,” Louis says, even as he is.

Liam settles Max back down in his crib, then comes over to Louis and wraps his arms around him.

“I’m fine,” Louis whispers, clinging to the back of Liam’s shirt.

“You don’t have to be fine if you’re not actually fine.”

Louis buries his face in the crook of Liam’s neck like a little kid. Liam heaves a sigh, releasing some of the bunched-up tension in his body from them fighting.

 

*

 

They start spooning as soon as they climb in bed; Liam is relieved that Louis immediately scoots up against him, pressing his spine to Liam’s front. Louis always likes being held, but if he were actually angry, he’d sprawl out facedown on the California king mattress and punish Liam by forcing him off to one lonely corner.

Liam strokes his shoulders and kisses the back of his neck, playing with his hair. “There’s always the band,” he murmurs.

Louis scoffs. “Band with one reunion every five years. Most reunion we’ve had in ages was everybody coming over here so they could get my ex-husband together with Harry and then leave again without even plannin’ fuckin’ anythin’. Great meeting, lads. You absolute fucks.”

“Alright,” Liam says gently, feeling like he’s in a room with a man-eating tiger that hasn’t quite spotted him yet.

“Sorry. That wasn’t directed at you.”

“So, the royal ‘you absolute fucks’?”

Louis laughs. “‘Sactly.”

They hear the jingling of a collar, and then Bo comes out of his pillow-stuffed crate and jumps up on the bed. He sniffs Louis, then starts licking the tears off his face.

Louis giggles. “Silly dog...”

“He loves you.”

“Yeah.” Louis reaches up and pets him on the chest, then gestures for him to lie down at their feet. He does, and Liam tosses a blanket over him.

“Good boy,” Liam murmurs. Bo’s tail thumps the bed.

Louis clears his throat. Liam can hear congestion from the cigarettes. He wonders how much Louis smoked before he got home. Sometimes he gets in a frenzy with these things, a loop of self-soothing that veers into self-destructiveness. Liam does the same thing, that’s why he recognizes it so easily.

“I shouldn’t feel like this,” Louis says, clearly frustrated with himself. “I know I shouldn’t. I actually  _wanted_  to get pregnant, this time. I dunno what’s wrong with me, I’m sorry. I’m not angry at you. I shouldn’t bark at you like I do. It’s not your fault.”

“Hey, shh, it’s gonna be fine,” Liam murmurs, kissing him under his ear. “I swear we’ll figure it out. You remember what a tough time this always is.”

“Yeah…”

“I swear, Tommo.” Liam reaches down and links pinkies with him.

Louis drops his pinky and takes his hand, lacing their tattooed hands together. “Okay, sweetheart,” he whispers.

 

CALABASAS, MAY 9, 2025

Just like Louis suspected, Liam’s pub crawl leads to him being invited to a writing session two days later. His appearance had, as intended, given the people Liam usually works with the green light to start bringing him in on projects again, after he had functionally disappeared to take care of Louis once he was put on bed rest.

“Go, chief,” Louis says, as soon as Liam gets the text and reads it aloud.

“I don’t  _have_  to,” he counters.

Louis set his coffee cup down on the kitchen island and fixes him with a look. “ _Go_.”

“But I thought you and me could have some alone time today,” Liam says, cocking his head, all doe eyed.

“Liam, go! Go get a writing credit. You said yourself Tyler is big shit right now, yeah? On the come up? What if this cracks the top ten, and you wrote on it? That’s incredible for you, innit? So go.”

Liam comes over to him and presses a kiss to his cheekbone.

“We got time for us,” Louis murmurs. “All the time in the world.”

“Why don’t you go out today? I feel like you’ve been lonely… you don’t do well when you don’t see your friends, Tommo.”

“I’ve seen me friends, me family,” Louis shoots back. “Had loads of people come through here to see the twins. Oli’s called me every day this week.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t gone  _out_  yet.”

“Haven’t felt like it. And I don’t today, either.”

“Why don’t you come with me?” Liam says.

“Ah, ‘cos I wasn’t invited?”

“Hey, c’mon, they’d love to have you in there. Tyler only didn’t ask ‘cos you just had the babies, that’s all.”

“That’s not the only reason he didn’t ask. And he’s right not to, anyway. I’m not in any kind of shape to sit through a five-hour writing session.”

“Drop me off, then,” Liam urges. “C’mon. Zayn’s gonna take the kids today, doesn’t he? It’s been making you sad when they leave, lately. Lemme get you out of the house for a bit.”

“Not  _sad…_ ”

“You miss them more than normal, though,” Liam says, playing with the strings on Louis’ hoodie.

Louis sighs. He has, he’s been all funny and hormonal and extra attached to them, but he doesn’t like anyone pointing this out. “You really want me to drop you off?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Well.” Louis glances at his phone. “Lemme finish my coffee first.”

Liam wraps his arms around Louis’ waist, squeezing him and kissing the nape of his neck. “Go ahead. You, uh…”

“What?”

“You wanna shave, baby?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Thought I’d ask.”

“You don’t like the beard?”

“Ahh…” Liam hedges.

“I’m gonna eat your arse out,” Louis threatens, “and rub this beard all over your cheeks so hard you can’t sit down for a week.”

“Cheers, looking forward to it.”

Louis pats him on the arm.

 

*

 

The writing session is at Tyler’s place in Simi Valley. The sprawling compound is nestled at the bottom of a valley that was ravaged by wildfires several years ago and is now flourishing, greener than ever.

Louis climbs out of his Aston Martin with a groan, clutching at his back. It’s just spasmed with pain as he stood up.

“You alright?” Liam says across the top of the car.

“Yeah,” Louis says, pushing up the sleeves of his jacket.

Liam crosses the large garage floor (it’s really more like a hangar) and inputs a code into the keypad next to the door. It beeps and slides open like  _Star Trek_.

“Shit, we need that,” Louis says as he comes over. “That’s sick.”

“Right?”

They walk in and immediately get lost in a labyrinthine hallway; they wander, shouting “OI OI!” until someone yells back up a flight of stairs, “Down here! In the studio!”

“Oh, that makes sense, now doesn’t it,” Liam says. “Studio. I’m stupid.”

“Yeah, but luckily I’m marrying you for your looks,” Louis says, then swats him on his arse.

Tyler’s home studio is even more lavish than theirs — all dark leather accents, with its own recording booth. About nine guys and one woman are piled on couches and leather beanbags that are scattered throughout the room. Some of them are typing away on laptops, headphones secure over their ears, while one guy is noodling around on a guitar and a few others are passing a vape pen around. Writing by committee. Louis recognizes most of these people, albeit some better than others. His Swedish DJ friend, Oskar, is sprawled out on a couch, fiddling with an Akai pad.

“Hey, hey,” Tyler says when they walk in, getting up. Everyone else echoes warm hellos.

He comes over and daps up Liam, then brings Louis in for a hug. “Good to see you, man! Congrats on the twins.”

“Thanks, thank you,” Louis says.

“Fank you,” Oskar imitates fondly.

Louis grins at him. “One to talk,  _Oskaaaair_.”

Oskar laughs and flaps his hand.

Tyler gives him a once-over. “You staying? You want something to drink?”

If he didn’t know better, Louis would think Tyler is checking him out — that there’s a twinkle of curiosity in his eyes. He opens his mouth and shuts it again before saying, “Nah, just gave Payno a ride over… gonna head back out, here.”

Oskar makes a sad noise. “Aw, no, Lou-is!”

“Sorry,” Louis says with a laugh. He pats Liam on the arm, then waves to everyone else. “Have a good session, all of you!”

They shout goodbyes as he heads back up the stairs.

 

*

 

Louis gets another call from his accountant around three, about his friend’s brewery chain in downtown Los Angeles he impulsively bought 45% equity in several days ago. He’s just launching into a justification of the purchase (their profit margins are solid, and he likes beer, so he’ll go down to check on the business fairly often) when the doorbell rings.

“I gotta go, Mick,” Louis says, glancing at his Rolex. 2:30. “I think me ex-husband’s here.”

“Okay, but Louis? Please, for the sake of my ulcers, stop with this angel investor shit?”

“Okay okay! Byeeee!”

He hangs up and launches himself gingerly off his favorite recliner in the den, still favoring his sore back.

Zayn looks all cheerful on their doorstep, bathed in mid-afternoon California sunshine. He’s been in a very good mood since he got back together with Harry. “Hey you.”

“Hey,” Louis says, squinting. “You’re early.”

“Wanted to get a cup of tea with you, run something by ya.”

“Alright.” He peers behind him. “Ugh, sunny today, innit?”

“It’s L.A., mate, it’s always like this.”

“Yeah. Still not used to it yet.”

“After eight years?”

“It’s just gross,” Louis says, and Zayn laughs. “Hey, wanna come see the babies? I was about to check on ‘em.”

Zayn shrugs and sweeps his hair back from his forehead. “Sure.”

They traipse into the foyer and head upstairs. Halfway up, Zayn touches a hand to the small of his back and says, “How’ve you been?”

“Alright,” Louis says. “Tired. Same as Liam.”

“Where’s he at?”

“Writing session.”

“Who with?”

“Tyler Poole, half dozen other people.”

“Ah, yeah, that guy,” Zayn says. “Guy who makes all the boring shit with the same beat over and over.”

Louis snorts. “You jealous?”

“Of that hack? Nah.”

In the nursery, Agnes is sat in a rocking chair reading a  _People_  magazine and filing her nails. She smiles when they come in.

“Hi Louis,” she says. “Hello, Zayn.”

Zayn gives her a little wave.

Louis goes over and scoops up Max. “Just saying hullo,” he says, turning and showing the baby to Zayn.

Zayn looks at Max with mild interest. “Hey there, mate,” he says.

“What, you wanna shake his hand?”

Zayn laughs. “Sorry?”

“Just that was so formal.”

“Ah, Louis…”

“C’mon,” Louis pouts. “They’re our kids’ siblings, doesn’t that count for anythin’?”

“Counts for a ‘hey there’.”

Louis rolls his eyes and settles Max back into his crib. Max coos and burbles. Louis grins and baby talks to him, then goes over to Patrick and scoops him up. He brings him close to Zayn and glances up at him. “Look how big Paddy is now.”

Zayn reaches out and strokes his head. “Definitely bigger than when I saw him last, yeah. He looks like you, this one.”

“Does he?” Louis says, delighted.

“Yeah. Sorta looks like Yasmeen as a baby, and she always looked more like you.”

“Do you look like me?” Louis says to Patrick, bouncing him.

Patrick makes a huffy sound, then starts to wail.

“Shit,” Louis sighs. “He sounds hungry.”

Agnes gets up, setting her magazine aside. “I’ve got it, Louis, I’ll warm him a bottle. You two go on.”

“Thanks, love.”

Zayn guides Louis out into the hall, a hand to his back again. When Louis turns to him, Zayn points at his chest and says, “You, ah.”

Louis glances down; there’s two wet spots on the front of his hoodie.

“Fuck,” he says amiably. He’s too tired and too comfortable around Zayn to be embarrassed by this. “I do that when they cry, sometimes… thought I’d stopped.”

“You using that ointment shit that stops it?” Zayn says.

Louis smiles. “Aww, you remember the ointment?”

Zayn looks sheepish; he tries to lean casually against the wall, but there’s a massive painting right next to him, and he jerks back before the sleeve of his jacket makes contact with it. “I remember a lot of stuff.”

“I wasn’t before, ‘cos I was trying to, y’know, actually use a bit of milk, just to get Patrick’s weight up. And I did, and he’s doing better, so I am now… but I don’t think my body’s quite got the message yet.”

“Sounds rough.”

Louis flaps his hand. “‘S’fine,” he says, heading down the stairs. Zayn follows along behind.

When they reach the kitchen, Louis goes to rummage for a pair of mugs. “So how’s your day been?”

“Fine, fine.”

“How’s Harold?”

Zayn leans on the counter. He’s doing a lot of leaning, today. Louis sets the mugs down and glances over at him.

“Good,” Zayn says. “Yeah. Out of town, right now, but he gets back tomorrow.”

“Yeah? What’s he out of town for?”

“Something about a film. You know how he is.”

“Yeah,” Louis says. “Haven’t seen him  in a minute.”

“Reckon he’d like to meet the twins,” Zayn says.

“I’m sure.” Louis finds himself going stiff in his spine and voice for no reason he can clearly identify. Clearing his throat, he adds, “He sent us a very nice floral arrangement.”

“Sorry I didn’t send anythin‘,” Zayn says. “Just slipped my mind.”

Louis edges over to the sink and starts filling the kettle. “You gave us that painting.”

“That didn’t cost me shit, though. I meant like flowers, or a big stuffed giraffe for the nursery, shit like that.”

Louis thinks of the watches Zayn bought for him when each of their kids was born. “I don’t think it’s customary to get your ex a gift when they start having kids wiv someone else, anyway.”

“Yeah, but we’re friends. ‘S’not like I hate your guts.”

“How about this, I won’t send you any flowers when you and Harry start having kids. Make us even.”

Zayn snorts. “Long way off, that.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Looks at me, eh? Looks at me how?”

Louis adopts a low drawl. “‘Oh Zaaayhehhn, I want you to pu’ a baaaby in me…’”

“Please… we're just datin’.”

“Right.” Louis goes over and opens the wood cabinet the fridge is hidden in, then the fridge itself, and starts rummaging in it. “You want milk in your tea?”

“Long as it’s out of a pitcher and not your nipple.”

“Bloody hell. No need to worry about  _that_.”

“You tasted it at all?” Zayn says.

Louis sets the milk on the counter. “I haven’t,” he says. “But Liam has.”

“Seriously? Nasty.”

“Yeah, we were ‘avin’ sex back when I was pregnant, and —“

Zayn makes a noise and puts his hands up. “Spare me the details.”

“He said it tasted sweet,” Louis says with a grin.

With a look of disgust, Zayn says, “Just sugar in my tea, actually, thanks.”

He laughs. “You’re gonna be off dairy products for good, after hearin’ that.”

“It’s a safe bet.”

The kettle goes off, and Louis starts pouring. “So,” he says, bringing their mugs over to the island and settling onto a barstool, “what’s up? What did you wanna discuss?”

Zayn takes a seat next to him. He looks sort of awkward and fidgety, and seems as if he’s about to speak, then takes a long drink of his tea instead.

Louis raises an eyebrow at him.

“Hot,” Zayn comments, his voice a little hoarse.

“Yes, I did in fact  _boil_  the water.”

Zayn lets out an exhale, and drums his fingers on the marble.

“I just wanted to ask if it’s alright with you if I have Harry over this weekend,” he says. “After he gets back. Start getting the kids used to having him around… maybe go to the zoo or something, all four of us.”

Louis is quiet. He’s stung. He wishes he wasn’t — it shouldn’t hurt, not after all this time, but he feels it like a thorn in his chest. He sees the weekend as a potential slideshow of pap pics in his head — snapshots of Harry shepherding them along at the zoo, all smiles, him and Zayn holding hands while the kids dart ahead.

Louis knows how it is for the five of them, how it’s all about the way things appear, regardless of how they really are. This will play right into how everyone has been characterizing him since the twins came — overburdened, ruined. The stories that use pap pics of him and Liam looking tired and spin them to claim that Liam is leaving him because it’s all too much. He wanted Louis, not four extra kids, made-up ‘insiders’ claim. He wanted the cute, fun Louis he had a dalliance with in his early twenties, not a washed-up used-up fishwife.

And Louis’ tired face will be used in a tiny circle at the bottom of pictures of Zayn and Harry, a joyful, new little family at the zoo with  _his_  children. With the same tired headlines —  _JEALOUS, HEARTBROKEN, LIVING IN REGRET: LOUIS WANTS ZAYN BACK AND IS FURIOUS HE’S MOVED ON WITH HIS BANDMATE AND EX-FRIEND, SOURCES SAY!_

Imagining this hurts him, it does. Especially since he’s just sitting here, a mess, still leaking all over his sweatshirt.

“Okay,” is all he says.

Zayn tilts his head. “You look like it’s not okay,” he observes.

“No, no,” Louis says. “I’m just thinking.”

“Look, we don’t have to go somewhere public, it was just a thought. We can debut at Niall’s weddin’ like we planned.”

“Hey, no, do what you want, mate. Don’t mind me.”

“Alright, well, you look upset, so.”

“I’m not,” Louis insists. “Upset is way too strong. Just, y’know. Still getting used to the idea of him as Mr. Stepmum.”

Zayn eyes him. “You want a cigarette?”

“You can’t bribe me into processing it faster, mate.”

“What’s there to process? I’m with Harry, and I need the kids to get used to that — so? ‘S’just like anyone else I’ve dated.”

“It’s  _Harry_ ,” Louis says. “That’s all. It’s always been complicated with me and him, ‘specially when it comes to you. This is always gonna… I’m always gonna have certain feelings about it.”

Zayn studies him. “‘Ey,” he says gently, “you look good. I tell you that yet?”

Louis stiffens further. “That’s how you reassure me about this? Lie to me that I look good?”

“Is it working?”

He laughs a hiccupy laugh. “No!”

“I’m not lyin’,” Zayn says, his expression gentle. “You look happy. You look good to me when you’re happy.”

“Zayn…”

“Want a hug?”

“Yeah,” Louis murmurs, and lets Zayn wrap him up in his arms. He buries his face in his shoulder and reaches up his back, clinging to his jacket.

“Dunno about happy,” he says, his voice soft. “Been hard on me, these past few weeks.”

“I know. Overall, I meant.”

“Yeah.”

Zayn reaches up and strokes his hair.

“Sorta feel like I’m going crazy, lately,” Louis admits, choking up a little.

“Maybe you are,” Zayn says.

He laughs wheezily.

“Hey, we’re all going crazy.” Zayn lets his hand slide down to Louis’ back, and he pats him. “That’s just life, yeah?”

“I guess.”

“Liam taking good care of you?”

“Yeah, always.”

“Good.”

They separate and smile at each other.

“So, yes to Harry visitin’, but no to the public outing?” Zayn says, and takes a sip of his tea.

“Yeah,” Louis says, wiping his eyes. “If you could just wait ‘til the wedding.”

“Alright, Tommo.”

“Thanks, b —“ Louis stops himself from accidentally saying ‘babe’ in the nick of time. “— bro.”

“No worries.”

“So what are you up to this week?”

“Ah,” Zayn says. “Not much. Been thinkin’ I’ll sell my Coldwater place.”

“Seriously?”

“Been looking at this spot in Malibu.”

“Oh, Malibu’s nice.”

“Yeah. It’s nice, right on the water, got a stretch of private beach.”

“You got pictures?”

Zayn pulls out his phone, nodding. Louis takes a sip of his tea, then leans in to look.

“That’s lovely,” he murmurs. “Kids’d love it.”

“Right?” Zayn smiles. “I might take ‘em to check it out this weekend.”

“You should.”

Louis thinks, looking at him, that they really are fully enshrined in adulthood now. These are the things they talk about anymore — kids, real estate, their discomfort with aging. And it isn’t that they do this against their will. They actually  _enjoy_ it, now. They’re no longer putting on fatherly drag to fulfill a role they still feel too young and dumb to commit to.

Even when they were married, they acted young, younger even than they were. The stresses of parenting and marriage wore hard on them, and neither of them were prepared to sacrifice as much as they had to. Half a year after Amir was born, they left the kids with Zayn’s parents and went to gamble in Atlantic City, did ayahuasca and stayed up until four in the morning, running down the streets with a pack of their dumbest friends. They fell asleep on the beach next to a bonfire and were woken by the sunrise.

Even them getting married was so impulsive. Probably ill-advised. Probably was never a good sign that Zayn’s proposal was him, beset by guilt, begging Louis while Louis was weeping on the bathroom floor about being pregnant again.

He feels so much more secure about his not-proposal from Liam. It was a mature conversation, and it felt like the logical next step, like they’ve been writing a song together and marriage was the only chord progression that made sense. It didn’t feel like desperate, frantic inertia the way he and Zayn did.

Zayn gets to the end of the photos and sets his phone down.

“How’s AA?” Louis says.

Zayn shrugs. “The steps’re the steps.”

Louis traces his finger along a pattern in the marble counter. “What’s that mean?”

“Ah, just… it’s boring. Lot of work.”

“You’ve still got weed, though,” Louis points out. “Can’t be all that bad.”

“Just… I dunno.” Zayn drums his fingers on the back of Louis’ hand; Louis chuckles. “Not slipping up,  _ever_. It’s hard.”

“I can imagine.”

Zayn’s fingers stop, and he starts stroking them over Louis’ skin. The back of Louis’ neck tingles.

“Hey,” Louis says, but not very firmly. He likes the attention.

Zayn meets his eyes and smiles. “Sorry. I wanna take care of you, right now… Some primal kind of shit.”

“I’m being taken care of.”

“I know.”

“Nice you feel that way, though.”

Zayn clears his throat. “Hey, congratulations, though, seriously. They look great, the twins.”

“Thanks, mate.”

“Liam’s lucky.”

Louis is surprised to hear this much affection at once from Zayn. Maybe it’s still fucking him up to see Louis having moved on so thoroughly. He tries to imagine how he’d feel, going over to visit Zayn and his two newborn babies with Harry. Probably like he’d been socked in the gut.

“Fuckin’ right, he’s lucky,” he says lightly. “Hey, you wanna go smoke?”

Zayn looks surprised. “Sure,” he says.

 

*

 

It’s about another hour before the kids get back. They’re deep in a music conversation in the back garden when Louis’ watch goes off.

“Ah, there they are,” he says.

He and Zayn make it halfway down the hall toward the foyer before they hear Mia shouting, “ _Hey!_ Where’s everyone? We’re home!”

“Hi there,” Zayn shouts back.

Mia and Amir appear around the corner, exclaim “Dad!” in unison, and run to him, tackling into him. Zayn kneels and wraps his arms hard around them, squeezing and tickling them. Giggles fill the air, bouncing off the high ceiling.

Louis watches them, smiling. Sunday peeks around the corner too, then.

“Hey love,” he says. “Feeling better today?”

She nods. “I’m gonna go lie down, though.”

“Okay. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

Sunday smiles at him before she slips away, traipsing upstairs.

Zayn gets to his feet with difficulty. Their kids are clinging to him like monkeys.

“What, you been beating on them, lately?” he says to Louis, who laughs.

“No, just been a bit distracted,” he admits.

“Daddy’s sad,” Amir says. “He has bombardment depression.”

“You are so stupid,” Mia shoots back. “ _Post-partum_.”

Louis’ heart skips a beat.

“I’m not  _stupid_!”

Zayn snaps his gaze to Louis’, looking concerned.

“I don’t,” Louis says quickly. “Kids, stop reading things on the Internet. I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Zayn says, his eyes still worried. He must be thinking of his little breakdown earlier. Louis is already embarrassed about that.

“I’m fine,” he says. “I’m just, y’know, it’s like I told you. It’s a crazy time.”

“Amy’s mom says she doesn’t know how you do it, with so many kids _,”_  Mia pipes up. “Especially since we’ve got different dads.”

“Does she?” Louis says acidly. “Maybe Amy’s mum ought to mind her own f — her own business.”

“I know,” Mia says. “I told her that. I said, you shouldn’t say these things to me, ‘cos it’s not appropriate.”

Zayn laughs. “That’s a girl, Yas. You stand up for your old dad.”

Louis smiles at him.

Amir tugs on Zayn’s sleeve. “Can we get In ‘N’ Out?”

Zayn hesitates.

“No,” Louis begs him. “Please feed them a vegetable. They’ve been having dinosaur nuggets all week, it’s awful.”

“How about,” Zayn says, “I make burgers? And we have a salad too.”

Amir groans. “I want  _fries…_ ”

“Well, we can’t get everything we want in life.”

Louis grins. “Alright, get a move on, you lot. I’ll see you Sunday.” He kneels, and the kids flock to him to get kissed on the head. They’d been going through a phase where they were too old for that, but since the twins, they’ve been letting him baby them a bit more again. “Bye loves. Be good for your dad, okay? Do your homework.”

“We will,” they both chirp, and then Zayn leads them away, down the hall and out the door.

Louis gets to his feet, stuffing down the sadness he always feels at the three of them going off without him.

 

*

 

He distracts himself from the quiet house by settling down in the den with Sunday and playing one of her equestrian video games with her on the Playstation. They sit on the floor together on a raft of pillows while she giggles about how bad he is.

“You told me this was like FIFA!” Louis exclaims. “This is nothing like FIFA!”

“Oh no, you got your dressage score back,” Sunday says, pointing up at their massive TV. “It’s a fifty.”

“Is that bad?”

“That’s  _really_  bad.”

“I don’t like this horse,” Louis complains. “Can I get a better horse?”

“You get a better horse by doing well in the shows.”

Louis looks down at his phone and surreptitiously Googles  _‘how to cheat at Riding Star 5000_ ’.

“Hullo!” they hear Liam call from down the hall.

“Hi Daddy,” Sunday calls back, and dashes off to go greet him.

Liam comes back in a moment later, having scooped Sunday up into his arms. “Hi honey bunny,” he says to Louis, beaming.

Louis laughs. “You’re in a good mood.”

“I am! Good session.”

Liam sets down Sunday, and she heads off into the hall, probably assuming that they’re going to start talking about boring grown-up things. Liam comes over and settles down on the pillows next to Louis, who turns the Playstation off.

“You get my text?” he says to him.

Liam knits his brow. “No?”

“Really? I sent it a couple minutes ago.”

Liam fumbles in his hoodie pocket for his phone and pulls it out, looking at it. “Wait,” he says. “This isn’t my phone.”

Louis lays down against the pillows and wriggles closer to him, grabbing his wrist so he can look at the screen. Liam’s right, it isn’t his. His lockscreen is a picture of Sunday holding a buttercup under her chin, and this one is a toddler boy.

“That’s Jason,” Liam says. “Tyler’s kid. Shit, me and Tyler must have mixed up our phones. We’ve got the same case…”

Louis grins. “Try to open it.”

“Louis!”

“Well, you’re gonna have to to call  _your_  phone, right? Just try.”

Liam taps the home screen — it’s locked.

“Try his kid’s birthday,” Louis suggests.

“Like I know his kid’s birthday?”

Louis opens Safari and Googles  _Tyler Poole son born._ A  _People_  article immediately pops up:  _Pop star Tyler Poole welcomes baby with backup dancer ex-boyfriend._

“August third, twenty twenty-three,” Louis says.

“This is so fucked,” Liam says. “We shouldn’t.”

“Aren’t you the least bit curious to look what he’s said about you?”

“Louis! No!”

“Crazy,” Louis says. “I’d totally wonder.”

He snatches the phone from Liam’s hands and types in 832023.

It opens.

“Sick,” Louis says. “I’m a genius, me.”

“Look,” Liam pleads, “please, we shouldn’t. I wouldn’t want him to do this to me.”

“Yeah, well, he can’t, ‘cos your code is all random numbers. And that’s my idea that you stole off me, so you can thank me for that.”

“He wouldn’t try to break in, anyway!”

“Wanna bet?”

Louis’ thumb is hovering over the Messages button.

“Tommo,” Liam mutters.

“Tell me no, if you mean no,” Louis says. “But you gotta tell me straight out.”

He glances up at Liam, who’s gone all puppy-dog eyed.

“Babe?” Louis says playfully, knowing damn well Liam isn’t going to tell him no.

“Fine,” Liam mutters. “But just search my name. That’s  _it_. And I don’t want to hear what you find, unless it’s serious shit.”

Louis cackles and hits the button.

“Don’t laugh like that!” Liam exclaims.

“Like what?” Louis says, as he types  _Liam_  into the search bar.

“All evil-like!”

“Ooh, here we go. He texted Zach Ernst about you three hours ago.”

“I don’t wanna know, seriously.”

“He said…” Louis scrolls. “Want me to just read it?”

Liam covers his eyes with his hand. “Yeah.”

“Zach said,  _how’s the session_? Tyler said,  _good shit, getting a lot done on two tracks I’m feeling for my next album._ Zach said,  _who all is there?_ Tyler said — blah blah blah, listed off a bunch of people, including you. Then…” He scrolls. “Then they go off on a tangent about… Whoa, Oskar went to rehab last year?”

“Oh shit, I had no idea.”

“Me neither… poor bloke.” Louis scrolls more quickly. “Alright,  _that’s_  none of our business.”

“None of this is any of our business,” Liam mutters.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, they talk about you again here. Zach says he likes you, thinks you’re a good guy.”

“Yeah?”

“What d’you mean,  _yeah_? Everyone likes you, Payno. Alright, Tyler said you had some good ideas... Hey!” Louis socks him in the shoulder. “He said he  _loves_  your voice, wants you as a feature again.”

“Good. Now hand me the phone.”

“Wait,” Louis says. “This bit is about me…”

Liam’s brow knits. “You?”

“Yeah…” He falls quiet as he reads.

 

**Zach**

whats his bf up to

**Tyler**

Who louis? not sure what he’s working on

i saw him though

**Zach**

oh yeah?

**Tyler**

Yeah he dropped liam off

**Zach**

i havent seen him in a min.. i know they just had twins

**Tyler**

Looks like he bounced back alright

**Zach**

yh?

**Tyler**

still a cute piece of ass

**Zach**

not my type.. would u?

**Tyler**

probably yeah

He seems like a good time

**Zach**

LMAOO your fucked up for that

i hope he sticks with writing, hes really good

**Tyler**

True, agreed

“Louis,” Liam says.

Louis hands him the phone, chuckling to himself.

Liam’s brow gets closer and closer as he reads, and then his mouth falls open. “Hey!” he shouts at the screen.

“Listen,” Louis says, grinning, “really I don’t mind. Actually, it’s sort of nice to hear.”

“Are you joking? He can’t talk about you like that!”

“Liam, Liam. We’ve said plenty of shit like this behind people’s backs, come on. It’s just how guys talk.”

Liam lets out a gusty sigh. “This is why we shouldn’t’ve looked at his texts. Now this is gonna bother me, and I can’t say anything to him about it.”

“Sure you can,” Louis says. “Say ‘hey, Louis broke into your phone, he’s such a crazy fucker, anyway, he noticed you said a couple things about him?’” He punches the air. “Then hit him with a left.”

Liam shoots a look at him.

“Alright, alright,” Louis says, handing him the phone. “Ring yourself, yeah?”

Liam sits up on the pillows as he scrolls through Tyler’s contacts. He taps his finger against the screen and then hits speaker when the phone picks up.

“Hey,” Tyler says, laughing. “I’ve been waiting for you to call, I don’t have your number in any of my other phones.”

“Hey,” Liam says, his voice sort of clipped. “Sorry, only just realized what happened.”

“Ah, no worries. So, wait, how’d you manage to call me?”

Liam’s eyes go wide, and he looks at Louis with panic, then says smoothly: “I, uh, I just said ‘Siri, call Liam.’”

“Ohh, true. I should’ve thought of that.”

Louis exhales and mouths ‘ _good save_ ’.

“So, you want me to send a guy over?” Tyler says. “Pick up my phone, deliver you yours?”

“Sure, sounds good.”

“Cool. I’ll do that right now.”

“Great, thanks mate.” Liam hangs up on him and tosses the phone aside like it’s dirty. “I can’t believe you’re not offended,” he says.

“About what?”

“What he said.”

“I’m offended,” Louis says. “A bit. But mostly flattered.”

“How is that flattering?”

“Oh, love… dunno… you know I’ve not been feeling attractive, lately. Feeling like I’m a bit past it.”

Liam scoffs. “You aren’t anything of the kind!”

“C’mon, I’m solidly into me thirties now, I’ve had four babies…”

Liam seems about to argue, so Louis puts a hand up to stop him. “I don’t need reassuring. I’m just explaining to you why it’s nice to get some objective flattery, is all.” He pauses, then adds after a moment of reflection, “He did say I was a good writer.”

“ _Zach_ said that.”

“Yeah, but Tyler agreed. What, you jealous or something?”

“Of  _Tyler_?”

“Of the fact that Tyler thinks I’m cute.”

Liam wrinkles his nose. “Not jealous, just protective.”

Louis pats him on the thigh. “Hey, there was a story in Life and Style today about us, did I tell you? Me manager sent me it for a laugh — apparently you freaked out in the delivery room and abandoned me ‘cos you didn’t want to deal with five kids, and we’ve been living separately ever since and pretending to be together for the sake of the babies.”

“Oh, is that what happened?”

“Yeah,  _obviously_.”

“You trying to distract me from being annoyed about what he said?”

“Maybe,” Louis says, grinning cutely. “Is it working?”

Liam softens. “Maybe.”

Louis wraps his arms around his neck and pulls him down, wrestling with him. Liam overpowers him and presses him down against the pillows, kissing him on the face while he laughs and pretends to protest.

“You know, I had a feeling,” Louis says, patting Liam on the face. “He gave me the eye, when I dropped you off.”

Liam gapes at him again. “I can’t believe this!”

“You can’t believe anyone but you is attracted to me?” Louis teases.

“No, no.” He flaps his hand. “But we  _just_  had two babies together.”

“I didn’t get the impression he wants to steal me, Payno. It was a cursory glance.”

“Do you think he’s cute?” Liam says.

Louis laughs. “Um — not really, no. Not my type.”

“What’s your type?”

“In blokes? Mostly it seems to be guys that’ve been in One Direction.”

“Very funny.”

“Well, I like ‘em taller,” Louis says. “Not  _too_  much taller, mind, I don’t want to feel like a hobbit. You’re a good size for me. Tyler’s my same height, I think, maybe even shorter. He’s a wee one.”

“Zayn’s barely taller than you,” Liam points out. “Smidge taller.”

“A smidge?” Louis teases, and Liam gives him one of his cute smiles. “But Zayn’s not my usual type, anyway. Too skinny. I like ‘em more built.”

Liam plays with Louis’ fringe, clearly pleased to hear this. “Why’d you start sleeping with him, then?”

Louis shrugs. “I loved him… I mean the way we all did, like a brother.”

“Umm...”

“Fuck off, you know what I mean. Anyway, you were always on about that brother shit, brothers I never had, and you sure fucked the spit out of me, now didn’t you? I couldn’t walk or talk for a good five minutes after you fucked  _me_  the first time,  _bruv_.”

Liam rolls them onto their sides and kisses his neck. “Alright, alright...”

“Anyway,” Louis murmurs, “I thought if I could get close with him like that, it’d fix whatever was going on with him, the distance I’d started feeling. I dunno. I felt like me and the band were synonymous… if I could give him all of me, I could keep him happy in the band.”

“I never knew that.”

He clears his throat. “Sounds pathetic, I know.”

“No, Louis… not at all.”

“Plus, he’s fit as shit, Zayn. I mean, I’m not fuckin’ blind.”

Liam laughs. “Alright, fair.”

Louis gives him a smile. “Hey, but not more than you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re my sweet handsome boy… my big Payno who can carry me up a whole flight of stairs...”

Liam smiles back. “You liked that?”

“Yeah, I liked that,” Louis says, his voice husky and his eyes going soft. “Proper romantic of you.”

“I’ll start carrying you everywhere, if you like,” Liam says, taking his face in his hands and kissing him on the nose.

Louis hums in contentment.

“I love you,” Liam murmurs.

Louis smiles bigger. “Why d’you say it like that lately?”

“Like what?”

“All tentative… like it’s a question… ‘I lo-ove youu?’”

“Aw, I don’t sound tentative, do I?”

“Is it ‘cos I’ve been so cranky?” Louis says, searching his face.

Liam shakes his head. “No, I just feel like I’ve been saying it too often.”

“Well, that’s alright, lad,” Louis says, smiling, his voice going crackly. “Like to hear it.”

Liam smiles back at him.

“Daddy?” Sunday calls from the doorway.

They both look over at her, sitting up and scooting apart so she doesn’t think there was any funny business going on.

“Yeah,” Liam says.

“Mom called me,” she says, holding up her little pink mobile. “She says you weren’t picking up your phone.”

“Oh, shoot,” Liam says, scrambling to his feet and going over to her, taking the phone. “Alright, thanks lovey. I’ll take care of it. You doing your homework?”

“It’s done,” she says, looking evasive.

“All of it?”

Sunday sighs and goes back off down the hall. Liam shouts after her, “I’ll come check on you in a bit!” then comes back over to Louis, plopping down on the pillows and running his hand through his hair. It’s getting long on top again, the way Louis likes it, so he can hang onto it in two hard fistfuls when he’s riding his cock. He hopes Liam doesn’t go and shave it all off again before they have proper sex again.

“What d’you think she wants?” Louis says.

“Dunno.” Liam spins Sunday’s phone in his fingers. “Thought she was out of town all through May, wasn’t expecting to hear from her.”

Louis pats his arm. “Wanna go upstairs and check on the babies, and you can give her a ring?”

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

As they head down the hall, Liam wraps his arms around Louis’ waist and slides them into the front of his joggers, nuzzling into his neck.

“Liam,” Louis laughs. They walk forward awkwardly, like they’re in a two-legged race. Their footsteps echo; the ceiling is so high in this part of the house.

“What,” Liam murmurs.

“What’re you doing?”

“Cuddling.”

“God, you really are jealous, aren’t you? This is so funny.”

“I’m not!”

“Well, get off me, I don’t want your daughter seeing you with your hands down me trousers.”

Liam squeezes him like a boa constrictor, then releases him. “Alright, alright.”

Agnes is puttering around down the hall in the upstairs laundry room when they go up; they hear the dryer kick on as they step into the nursery. The boys are both awake under spinning mobiles, kicking their legs and staring up.

Louis scoops up Patrick, and Liam scoops up Max. They bring them into their room and deposit them both on the bed, and then Louis settles down with them while Liam dials Sunday’s phone.

He treats the twins like a baby buffet, kissing tummies and heads, squeezing their tiny perfect fingers and toes. They give him their gummy reflex smiles, and Louis wraps them up in his arms, blowing raspberries on each of them.

Liam watches this with a distracted fondness as the phone rings.

“Hey,” he says after a moment. “Yeah, sorry, I misplaced that phone. You could’ve rung my other line.”

“Babies,” Louis coos to the twins. “Baby babies… happy boys.”

“Ah, I dunno,” Liam says, and he begins to pace again, his bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. “Why?”

He’s silent for a little while. Louis glances up, watching him. He can hear Ceci talking, but can’t pick out any of what she’s saying.

Liam lets out a sigh. “Um — no, that wouldn’t work.” Pause. “‘Cos she’s got school? Yes, in June. You know they go year-round. Yeah, they get breaks… I mean, I’d have to check…”

More pacing, more silence. Patrick lets out a little whimper, and Louis lays down on his side, placing his hand over Patrick’s small chest. His noises peter off.

“I still don’t like it,” Liam says. “Because —“ He switches the phone to his other ear, looking nettled. “‘Cos she doesn’t like flying without me, and honestly, Toronto’s too far! And I don’t even know what you think you’re gonna do with her while you’re there, if you’re gonna be working. Yeah — I do, I get that you’re trying, I do. I really appreciate that. But — yeah, I’ve got my own fucking career, Cecilia! So I do understand!”

Liam trails off. Her voice is louder, now. Louis meets his eyes and uses Patrick’s little hand to wave at him; Liam stifles a laugh.

“No, don’t make it about that,” he says into the phone, glancing down. “Please don’t.”

Louis tunes their conversation out and reaches over to tickle Max’s feet. Max kicks out and makes a happy sound.

“Who’s a lad,” Louis coos. “Who’s my big lad...”

“Can we talk about this later?” Liam says. “I’ll text you when I get my phone back. Yeah, I will! When have I ever — God. Okay. Bye.”

He hangs up and tosses the phone very forcefully onto an armchair sitting by a window.

“That’s Sunday’s,” Louis reminds him.

“I didn’t break it…” Liam comes over and sits next to him on the bed, gazing down at the babies.

Louis tilts his head and looks up at him. “Think you need a cuddle,” he says.

Liam sighs. “Yeah.”

Louis sits up, manhandling him like he’s a stuffed bear and shoving him back against their pillows.

Liam chuckles at this. “Gimme one of my babies, Daddio,” he says.

Louis picks up Patrick and deposits him on Liam’s chest. Liam cradles him close and kisses him on the head.

Louis scoops up Max and lies next to Liam, settling their other son on his own chest. “Better?”

Liam starts to methodically pet Patrick’s back, nodding. He looks handsome in the golden light of late afternoon. “Better.”

Patrick hiccups.

“Aww, love,” Liam says, patting him. “You’re my hiccup boy, aren’t you? Always hiccuping on me.”

Louis‘ chest fills with tickly warmth, watching them. “Just remembered why I wanted to get pregnant in the first place.”

“What, you’d forgotten?” Liam teases.

“The past three months or so? Fucking right I had.”

An easy smile twitches at the corner of Liam’s lips. “Hey… I can’t believe Max is a lad, and I’m not.”

“Everyone’s a lad but you,” Louis says. “Mims is a lad. Agnes is a lad.”

“Stop it.”

“You’re not  _a_  lad. You’re  _my_  lad. You’re my man.”

Liam sighs dramatically. “Guess I can live with that.”

“You know perfectly well I only give you a hard time ‘cos I love you,” Louis reminds him.

Liam grins. “I know.”

Louis glances down at Max in his arms; he’s dozing off, his little hand fisted in Louis’ sweatshirt sleeve. “Sleepy boy,” he sings quietly, smiling at him.

“They’re being really good,” Liam marvels.

“Shh, don’t jinx it.”

“For now.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey, the Tyler thing…” Liam stops and shakes his head at himself, like he can’t believe they’re still discussing this. “It just bothered me ‘cos the other day, he was asking me shit about you, that’s all. Like how you were, and if we were back to having sex yet, things like that. I wouldn’t’ve been as straight with him as I was if I knew he was secretly jerking off about it.”

Louis laughs. “Aw, Payno. I’m sure he wasn’t secretly jerking off.”

“I thought he was just being a good friend!”

“He probably was… blokes can be disgusting perverts and good friends at the same time.”

“Yeah. We can. Myself included.”

“Nah, not you.”

“Am so!”

“Not in my experience, love, sorry. Even when we had sex the first time, I knew it wasn’t just sex… I knew you wanted to take care of me and shit. ‘S’the whole reason I slept with you, honestly.”

Liam looks over at him in surprise. “Really?”

“Uh-huh,” Louis murmurs, stroking Max’s back. Max lets out a little contented sound. “I could’ve fucked anyone, Liam. I was fucking around most of those first few months after Zayn left. But you were the only person who made me feel like — y’know, not lonely. Safe.”

“Good,” Liam says, his dark eyes soft. “I’m still a pervert, though.”

Louis grins at him. “All this stuff in the rags about you leaving me does make me feel a bit shitty,” he admits.

Liam reaches over and grabs him by the shoulder, squeezing him. “Wanna do a joint interview with Nick, or something? Yammer on about how happy we are?”

“Nah, that would seem so forced! Make it look like there is actually something gone screwy between us.”

“Well, we don’t have to be  _that_  obvious with it. We could plug our career things, too.”

Max starts fussing, and Louis sits up, gathering him into his arms and rocking him gently. “What have I got to plug? Yeah, my career’s goin’ blazes — changed fifty nappies this week, I think I’m in with a shout for the Nappy World Cup.”

“You’ve been working on things,” Liam argues. “Setting things in motion. In fact, the babies might even be more reason to get your face out there. Make sure people haven’t forgotten you’re more than a dad.”

Louis thinks he’s forgotten that, himself. “We’ll see Nick at the wedding,” he says. “Can ask him then. I’m in no rush.”

“Sure, Tommo.”

 

*

 

Liam leaves him to go for a swim, and Louis returns to the den so he can resume his earlier afternoon activities of sucking on a weed pen like it’s his only source of oxygen and watching terrible television way too loudly. Sunday comes and finds him after an hour or so, admitting, “I didn’t actually finish my homework, but I really don’t want to?” He stashes the pen and says, “There’s more important shit than homework,” then turns the Playstation back on.

Around six, a damp Liam finds them both. He chuckles, toweling his hair off and says, “You two want dinner? I’ve got this pasta thing I wanted to try out.”

“Real pasta?” Louis says. “Not zoodles?”

“Yeah, real pasta! Sunday, uh…” Liam rubs at the back of his head. “Your mum wanted you to give her a ring. She wants to ask you about maybe spending some time with her in June.”

“Oh,” Sunday says, sounding hopeful. “Should I call her now?”

“Ah, yeah, if you like, love. She’s in New York right now, so better hurry, ‘cos she’ll be getting ready for bed soon.”

Sunday scampers off of their pillow raft and hurries into the hall, past Liam. Louis is sad to see her go. He likes hanging out with her, especially when his kids are with Zayn. She doesn’t think of him as a parent, exactly, so their time together sort of makes him feel like he’s a kid again, too.

Liam comes over and sits next to him, studying his face. “Are you stoned?”

Louis’ heart jumps like he’s a schoolboy caught cheating on exams. “Not  _stoned_ , no.”

“What, you were smoking in front of Sunday?”

“No! I had a couple pulls off the pen before she came down here!”

Liam shakes his head. “I don’t like that,” he says, all serious. “I don’t want you supervising her high, Louis.”

“I wasn’t!”

“You just said you were!”

“I’m not  _high_  high — I’m sorry, look, you were fifty feet away, alright! We were just playing video games! Like you or me’s never had a couple beers with dinner, how’s this any different?”

“I’m just worried about you,” Liam says. “It feels like — I dunno.”

“Like what?” Louis says, anger flaring in his chest. “What patronizin’ bullshit do you have lined up to throw in me face, huh?”

“Louis!” Liam looks genuinely shocked. “That’s not on, mate!”

Remorse smothers his anger like a lid on a grease fire. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m —“ He reaches over and pats Liam on the thigh, and Liam covers his hand with his own. “I know. I don’t get high when I’m supervisin’ them, I know, that’s always been my policy, and it’s a good one. It’s just I've been stressed, and me back is bad again today…”

“I know,” Liam says in a gentle tone.

“I swear I only had like, three hits.”

“Alright, Lou.”

Louis blinks back tears and clears his throat. “What were you making for dinner?”

“Um… it’s like a pasta salad? Bit Greek, like dill, feta, courgettes. Was gonna use those tomatoes I got at the farmer’s market.”

“Oh, those looked nice.”

“Yeah,” Liam says.

Louis reaches up and strokes his cheek. “Thanks for cooking.”

“I like doing it.”

“Yeah, you’re decent at it too. ‘S most of why I keep you around.”

Liam socks him in the shoulder. “Knock it off, you fucking stoner.”

“Oh, ‘e wounds me.” Louis takes a breath. “It’s my bad, mate.”

“Ahh… I overreacted a bit. I know you’ve been in a lot of pain lately.”

“Yeah. I just hate making you look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Louis finds it hard to gather his words. “Like, untrusting.”

“Louis, noo, no.”

“Fine… like you can’t imagine what’s going on in me brain.”

Liam closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I don’t feel like that,” he says. “We’re not so different, you and me. Not at the end of the day.”

Louis lies back, staring up at the ceiling. “But something in me’s fucked up, I reckon,” he says. “Since I’ve had the twins… I dunno. Feeling it again.”

“You’re just sensitive,” Liam says softly. “That’s all.”

“That’s not it. I want to put someone’s head through a wall.”

“Not mine, I hope,” Liam jokes.

Louis laughs. “Only when you beat me at go-karts.”

“Oh, so every time we do go-karts?”

“Very funny. Give us a kiss.”

Liam lays down with him, snuggling in the crook of his arm, and meets his lips.

“You aren’t fucked up,” Liam murmurs. “I promise.”

“You ‘ave to say that, you love me.”

“Right, so I should know.”

Louis buries his nose in Liam’s hair. “Can I ask you something stupid?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you promise me you’re never gonna leave me?”

“Never,” Liam says immediately, and he claps a hand to Louis’ hip and squeezes him. “You don’t have to ask.”

Louis runs his fingers through Liam’s hair, inhaling the smell of his shampoo. “I like to hear it.”

“Well, never, angel.”

“Okay.”

“That’s what getting married is, isn’t it? Promising that?”

“We’ve both been married before,” Louis points out, still stroking Liam’s head.

“That’s alright,” Liam says, “‘cos I never did any leaving, and you didn’t get left, yeah? So it works out. Like algebra. I can still promise you.”

Louis doesn’t respond, so Liam tips his head back, gazing at him. Then he wraps Louis up in a harder squeeze and blows raspberries in his neck. Louis giggles, tingles shooting up his spine.

“That’s algebra, huh Payno?” he teases.

“My own algebra. Just invented it.”

Louis kisses him again.

 

CALABASAS, MAY 22, 2025

On an otherwise sleepy Friday afternoon, Patrick can’t be soothed.

Nothing seems to be wrong. Louis bounces him for ages; he thinks maybe he’s hot, and tries to take his onesie and socks off, but that makes him cry harder.

After years of taking care of his siblings, then raising two kids most of the way to adolescence, he’s fairly relaxed as a parent. He’s not the type to check on his newborns every ten minutes to make absolutely sure they’re still breathing. But he can tell something just isn’t quite right. A seed of dread plants itself in his chest, then grows steadily over the course of the next hour.

Finally, he sits down in the rocking chair and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

Liam is with Sunday at a horse thing, and he must be in the middle of something over there, because he doesn’t pick up after Louis tries him twice.

“Payno,” Louis says to his voicemail after the second try. “I think something’s up with Paddy, I can’t get him calmed down. I’m gonna try to take him by Emory, but if he can’t fit me in, I’m gonna take him to the ER. Ring me back when you get this.”

In his arms, Patrick is still wailing and kicking his legs. Louis fusses over him while the phone in his hand rings on speaker.

“What is it?” Louis begs him. “What’s wrong? What hurts?”

“Canoga Park Pediatrics,” a cool-voiced receptionist says.

“Is Kyle Emory in?”

“He’s with a patient, may I ask who’s calling?”

“Louis Tomlinson, I’ve been a client for like nine years — I’ve got month-old twins, one of them’s really colicky, and that’s not normal for him.”

“Okay… I’ll see if he can fit you in. Please hold.”

Louis sits back in the chair and listens to the sound of some classical piece jangling over the line. Patrick’s wails cut through the music like a buzzsaw.

“Please,” Louis begs him. “What  _is_  it?”

“Hello?” Emory’s tinny voice says from the phone.

“Hey,” Louis says in relief. “Sorry to drag you away, mate, it’s just I dunno what the hell is wrong.”

“Which twin is it?”

“The littler one. Patrick.”

“And you can’t get him soothed?”

“No, and I, like — I can tell something’s wrong, it’s his pain cry, but it’s not stopping.”

“Gotcha. Come on in, I’ll get you an appointment. I was just wrapping up here, doing some vaccinations.”

“Thanks, thank you, seriously.”

“Hey, no problem. See you in a few.”

 

*

 

Louis has to wake Max (who was soundly asleep and isn’t exactly happy about the change of scenery) and take him along, because it’s the nanny's day off. He shepherds them out to the car while they scream and cry like he’s murdering both of them.

“I fuckin’ know!” he finally barks at the stroller in exasperation as he’s leaning into the car, trying to get a baby seat’s straps untangled. “I get it!”

Louis creeps the Range Rover out of their driveway and onto the winding lane through the neighborhood, then past the security gate and onto the road. He goes as slow and careful as he can. A lot is working against his driving abilities: it’s a ludicrously bright day but he forgot his sunglasses, he’s dead exhausted, and the twins are still crying up a storm in the back seat. Patrick’s tearfulness seems to be distressing Max. He wishes he could have stuck them in the same seat, somehow. They’re always able to soothe each other — sometimes it’s all they want, is to cuddle in the same crib. Some weird twin thing.

There’s loads of traffic once he gets out of the residential sprawl near the ocean and starts heading inland, toward the shops and little malls. Tons of people, crawling along in their horrible SUVs just like his.

Patrick’s cries peter off for a moment, and his heart jumps in hope, but then they pick up more raw and keening than before. Louis sighs and leans his head against the steering wheel for a long moment while he waits at an endless light.

“Text Liam,” he says aloud, and the Bluetooth dashboard lights up. “Say, um — just say ‘hey, fucking call me back’.”

“Message sent,” Siri’s voice replies.

“Great.”

The light turns green.

 

*

 

Louis is so tired in the elevator up that he just sits down between the baby carriers, leaning back against the mirrored wall and briefly closing his eyes. Max, thankfully, has stopped crying, but Patrick has progressed to screaming his head off.

It stops, of course, on the fifth floor. He opens his eyes a crack; two coiffed blonde women step inside, then look down at him in concern.

“Hi,” he says.

“Are you good?” the taller one says, lifting her eyebrows.

“I’m aces, love, thanks for asking.”

“I’m just asking because you’re on the floor.”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees. “I am.”

“Wait,” the shorter one says. “Aren’t you that guy? From that boyband?”

Louis grins mirthlessly. “Yeah. I’m that guy.”

The elevator stops again on the eighth floor. He staggers to his feet. They help him with the baby carriers, and he thanks him as he heads out into the hall.

“He did not seem okay,” he hears the taller one whisper before the elevator doors shut. Louis turns and sticks his tongue out in their direction, then heads into Emory’s suite of offices.

The receptionist sends him straight back. The doctor’s there and waiting, unlike last time; he moves toward Louis and takes the carriers. Louis gratefully abandons his babies to Emory and sinks, exhausted, into an armchair by the window.

“So there’s nothing wrong with Max, right?” Emory says.

“Right-o.”

“Ok-aay…” He moves to the screaming Patrick and undoes his straps with ease, then lifts him into his arms. “Up we go…”

Louis watches blearily as Emory lays him out on his little baby exam table. The doctor searches his son thoroughly, looking in his ears, eyes, nose and throat, and then starts unbuttoning his onesie.

“I tried undressing him,” Louis calls, “and he cried harder…”

Emory glances up. “Really?”

“Yeah…”

His phone buzzes in his pocket. Liam’s texted him back.  _Soz i have terrible service been trying to call, everything ok????_

Louis starts responding, but then the doctor says, “Louis, come take a look.”

His heart drops through the floor. He gets up immediately and moves toward the center of the room.

Patrick is wriggling under the exam light, his face ruddy and streaked with tears. Louis reaches up and caresses his head, not breathing.

“What’s wrong?” he says.

“It’s his toe.”

Louis looks. The doctor’s taken both of Patrick’s little socks off and is indicating one toe with his tweezers — it’s bright pink and swollen.

“Hair tourniquet,” Emory says, then leans over Patrick and starts to work on removing it. “That’s why he cried harder when you tried to undress him — you probably yanked on it without realizing.”

Blissful relief crashes over Louis, but it’s followed quickly by a hot stab of parental shame. “Fuck,” he says. “Fuck, I should’ve known… that happened to Mims once, I should’ve remembered.”

“I remember you bringing her in for that,” Emory says, sounding fondly amused.

“Really?”

“Yeah. You came in out of your mind, stormed past my front desk and found me back here, said ‘I tried to pull it off, but I made it tighter, so fucking help her! Right now!’”

Louis chokes out a laugh and looks down at his son, who’s still squalling. “Don’t quite remember, but that does sound like me…”

“Oh, it’s a favorite story of mine. I tell it to other doctors a lot.” Louis glances at him, and he hastens to add, “Don’t worry — without identifying details. Okay…” Emory repositions his magnifying glass over Patrick’s foot, then clips a tiny pair of scissors together. “Think I just got it.”

“Seriously? That fast?”

“Yep.”

Emory goes over to a cabinet and fetches what looks like a tube of ointment, then snaps a latex glove onto his hand. He brings the tube over and starts smearing it on Patrick’s tiny, aggravated toe; Patrick begins to calm down, hiccuping softly.

“This should help,” Emory says. “It’ll numb the area.”

Louis’ eyes fill with tears he can’t bid back. He swipes at them. His throat is burning.

Emory glances up. “Louis?”

“Sorry,” he breathes. “I’m alright.”

“You want some water?”

He wants to say no, but the tears just come faster. Emory guides him back to the chair, then buttons up a squirming Patrick and scoops him up, delivering him to Louis.

“I’ll be back in one sec,” Emory says kindly, then heads back out of the room.

Louis clutches Patrick protectively to his chest, burying his face against his downy little head. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry, love… poor thing…”

Patrick, who seems relieved that he no longer has to cry his lungs out, just makes a burbling noise.

“Your old dad’s an idiot,” he murmurs to him, rubbing his back. “I’m sorry.”

He remembers about Liam, then, and fumbles for his phone, typing a reply back with one hand.  _everythingd fine. Paddy had hair wrapped around toe but he’s ok now. Still @ drs office. How’s Sunday doing_

Liam says back,  _need me to come?_

_No no. Its sorted_

_You sure?_

_Yeah_

_Okay,_ Liam says.  _Sundays great, looks like she’ll come in first place_

_Sick !!!!!! Tell her congrats frim me_

_Will do x_

Emory comes back in, then, with one of those triangular cups you get from water coolers. Louis takes it, embarrassed.

“He should be fine,” Emory says. “Like I told you when this happened with your daughter — you may not remember, it was so long ago, but it’s almost never a serious thing.”

Louis sips the water. “He was in pain.”

“I promise you he won’t remember it.”

“Yeah, I know. I, um. Wasn’t really cryin’ about that. I mean, I was, a bit. Just, y’know.”

“Okay,” Emory says, and sits down in a chair diagonal to him. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“Oh, look, man, I don’t…” Louis takes in a shuddery breath. “You’ve got appointments.”

Emory smiles. “I blocked off half an hour for you, so we’re still good.”

Louis shakes his head. His eyes fill with tears again at the prospect of unloading his burden on yet another person, only to have them fail to understand.

“Just a bit overwhelmed,” he says hoarsely.

“I can understand.”

Max fusses in his carrier, apparently having finally noticed that they’ve been carrying on without him. Louis closes his eyes, sighing.

“Here, let me,” Emory says, coming over and taking Patrick from him.

Louis lets him, his arms going limp like a rag doll’s. Emory carries the sockless, sniffling Patrick over to his carrier and deposits him into it. He closes his eyes again, and hears Emory talking softly to Max.

After half a minute of this, Max quiets down. Louis hears the doctor’s dress shoes tapping on the floor as he moves around the room, and then there’s something being pushed into his hand.

He opens his eyes. Emory is giving him a lollipop. Louis meets his gaze, laughing.

“I’m not good for much else,” he says with a grin. “Not used to treating adults.”

“Ah, that’s alright, mate… you’re goin’ above and beyond here, anyway…” He unwraps the lollipop and sticks it in his mouth. Grape.

“Hey, no,” Emory says. “You’ve been a loyal patient for almost a decade, I don’t mind taking a little time for you.”

“Really, I’m fine,” Louis says. “Just been a mess lately.”

“Totally understandable.”

“Yeah.”

Emory tilts his head. “You’re a good father, Louis.”

Louis’ eyes get hot again. He shakes his head. “Thanks.”

“I’m serious. It can’t be easy with four kids.”

“Five.” He sniffs. “I have five, um… Liam’s daughter.”

“Well, that just proves my point even more. And they’re good kids. I actually  _like_  them, which I can’t say for a lot of my patients. Let’s keep that between us, please, but I do mean it.”

Louis grins. “Yeah? Even when Mia tries to steal lollipops off you?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s a hoot.” He pauses. “So, ah… you’ve talked to your own doctor, right? About how you’re feeling?”

Louis nods.

“Okay. Good.”

“I really think I just need some time,” Louis says. “And some sleep.”

“Well, you know yourself best,” Emory says.

“Sorry for getting weepy on you.”

“Hey, it happens.”

Louis clears his throat and slaps his hands on his thighs, getting up. “I ought to get out of here. Thanks again, Kyle.”

Emory stands too, and reaches his hand out for Louis to shake. “If you want to thank me, recommend me to all your friends.”

“Oh, I already do, promise.”

“Good, good.”

 

CALABASAS, MAY 24, 2025

Louis is drifting along on the surface of sleep, not quite dipping under, when he hears footsteps on the stairs.

“Mia,” Liam calls, “he’s taking a nap.”

“I won’t wake him!”

He smiles to himself. Of course she’ll wake him. She always does.

Mia runs into the bedroom a moment later, and he opens his bleary eyes. They adjust fairly quickly since he’s got the lights off and the curtains shut— the only thing illuminating the room is afternoon light pouring through the door from the hallway. “You’re back early,” he says, rubbing at his eyelids, smearing sleep from them.

Mia jumps onto the bed and sits cross-legged near his knees. “Yeah, Dad has a flight tonight.”

“Yeah? Where’s he off to?”

“A music festival? I forget which one.”

Louis has a pang. He misses going to concerts and festivals. He and Zayn used to go together, when they were married — get someone to watch the kids and then go get stoned out of their minds, watch some shows and go fuck in their tent, sunburned and giggly.

“What’re you doing up here, silly?” he says.

Mia shrugs. “I just wanted to say hi.”

“Yeah? How was your weekend?”

“Alright,” she says, then rolls her eyes. “He made us do  _all_  our homework.”

“Good,” Louis says, relieved.

“And we finally went to the zoo.”

“Yeah, your dad said… no Harry this weekend, right?”

“No,” Mia says. “I haven’t seen him since a couple weeks ago. I heard Dad talking to him on the phone earlier, though.”

Louis wonders if they’re going to the festival together. If they’re going to fuck sunburned in a tent. Well, at least Harry doesn’t smoke weed. He can’t take that from them.

The stepdad-Harry weekend had gone well, though, at least according to the kids. He was very normal and chill and didn’t overstep any boundaries or hog Zayn’s attention at all. Exactly as on-paper perfect as you’d expect Harry to be.

“It seems like Dad really likes him,” Mia adds.

“I think he does,” Louis murmurs.

Mia tilts her head at him, but says nothing. Louis smiles at her.

“What?” she says.

“Nothing,” he says raspily. “You just really look like me, sometimes.”

Mia beams at him.

Louis clears his throat. “You excited for Niall’s wedding?”

Mia crawls across the bed and snuggles up in the crook of his arm. He strokes her shoulder. “Yeah,” she says. “I like weddings. Just, does it have to be all the way in Scotland?”

“Scotland’s right next to Britain, love, and we go there all the time.”

“It  _sounds_  further. Scotland doesn’t sound like a real place, it sounds like a fairy tale.”

“They talk like fairy tale people there, too.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. Accents thicker than mine. Thicker than Niall’s, even.”

“Whoa,” Mia marvels.

“It’ll be a fun time,” Louis murmurs. “Get to see some old friends. There’s gonna be people there who haven’t seen you since you were in me tummy.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead serious. Ten years, at least.”

“That’s so crazy.”

“I know. Feels like last week.”

Mia’s quiet. “Dad,” she says.

“Yeah.”

“Is there something I can do to help you feel better?”

“Better?”

“Not so sad.”

“Sweetheart, I've told you, I’m not sad.”

And he really isn’t, not in the way he generally understands himself to experience sadness. But kids are perceptive, and she’s picking up on all his ambiguity and stress, his grief for what his life could have been, his searing primal worry about Patrick, his fear that he’s dragged Liam in over his head. His irrational fear of another ended relationship, another broken home. It all just translates as sadness to her.

She looks up at him again, searching him with his own eyes. “You sure?”

“Yes,” he says firmly, and kisses her on the head. “I’m fine. And don’t worry about me. That's not your job.”

“You’ve just been so quiet, lately. You’re never quiet.”

“I’m just tired, sweets. Once the twins start sleeping through the night, everything gets easier.”

Mia squints. “You promise?”

“Promise,” Louis says, linking pinkies with her.

She squeezes his pinky tight. “Okay. What did guys you do when we were gone?”

“Not much. Went to the beach to get out of the house for a bit.”

She snuggles back into his armpit. “Did you have fun?”

“Sure.”

“Without me?”

“No, no… you know I always miss you two when you go with your dad. But you need time with him, too.”

“Sometimes it just makes me sad Sunday gets the whole week with you. You aren’t her dad.”

“I know.”

“But I know her mum sucks,” Mia says.

“Don’t say sucks,” he gently chides.

“Whatever… anyway, I’m glad she gets to have you too. I want her to be happy.”

Louis smiles. “I’m glad you do. That’s thoughtful, Mims. Really mature way to feel.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“That’s why I'm your favorite,” Mia says, lifting her head and beaming. “‘Cos I’m the most mature.”

“Hey, now, I’ve got no favorites,” he says.

It’s a bit of a lie. He loves them all exactly the same, of course, but he can’t help relating the most to Mia and being a bit soft on her. She’s been his little buddy since before she was even born.

“But aren’t you proud of me?” she says.

“Yeah, I am. Always, you know that.”

She smiles wider, and he reaches out to tickle her ribs. Mia flops to her side on the bed, giggling.

 

EDINBURGH, JUNE 20, 2025

They get back to the hotel around two in the morning. It’s nestled right next to the airport they’ll leave from tomorrow — if they peer over the row of hedges that lines the hotel car park, they can see the runway lights glittering a mile or so away as planes take off and land.

Louis gets out of their rented Escalade, yawning, and staggers to the back, opening the door and gathering a sleeping Sunday into his arms. On the other side of the car, Liam is doing the same for Amir. Mia, who’s hopped up on Pepsi and still awake, slides across the bench seat and pops out of the car, her dark ponytail bouncing.

“Shh,” Louis whispers to her. She nods.

Liam goes around the back of the car, pops the trunk, and awkwardly attempts to drag a stuffed tote bag out without jostling Amir.

“Payno,” Louis whispers, shifting Sunday in his arms. “What’s that?”

“It’s our wedding favors,” Liam whispers. “And some shit Niall made me take — extra bottles of wine they had, couple of the leftover desserts… anyway, I stuck the key card somewhere in here.”

“But I’ve got mine in my pocket, love, you don’t need to drag eighty bottles of wine up to the room.”

“Oh, alright.” Liam abandons his struggle with the bag and kicks the trunk shut. Amir stirs, but doesn’t wake.

“It was a lovely wedding,” Louis whispers as they cross the car park. “Really nice.”

“It was, yeah,” Liam agrees. “Made me think about how ours’ll go.”

“Me too.”

“You should have lots of balloons,” Mia helpfully interjects.

“All the balloons you want,” Liam agrees. Louis smiles at this.

They tiptoe down the hallway and into the lobby, where the friendly manager they met earlier is awake and manning the front desk. He whispers hello to them, noting the sleeping children, and hands Mia a butterscotch as they pass by on their way to the elevators.

“Say thanks,” Louis whispers at her.

“Thank you!”

“ _Quietly_ , Mims!”

Upstairs, Louis swipes them in. The suite is smaller than advertised, and done in ridiculous shades of maroon and gold, but they’re only here for one night anyway. And good thing, too. He’s already itching to get back to the twins.

His arms are starting to tire from carrying Sunday, but he crosses to the door by the kitchen and nudges it open.

“Mia,” he whispers. “You guys are sleeping in here, alright?”

It’s a smaller room off of the main one that doesn’t lead to the hall, and it has its own bathroom. Mia flings herself onto one of the beds, then leaps up and starts jumping back and forth between them.

Behind Louis, Liam stifles a laugh.

“Oi!” Louis hisses.

She stops and looks at him innocently. “What?”

“Go brush your teeth! It’s bedtime!”

Mia heaves a sigh. “ _Amir_  doesn’t have to brush his teeth.”

“He’s asleep. And I’d like to keep him that way, if possible. Here.” He hands her her pajamas.

She bounces off the bed, grabs them and storms into the bathroom.

“Is she gonna sleep?” Liam says, sounding concerned that she may not. He steps around Louis and deposits Amir on the right-hand bed, unlacing his shoes and slipping them off of him.

Louis sets Sunday on the left bed and starts doing the same for her, then tucks her under the covers. “She will. She always does this, she doesn’t even realize how tired she is right now. Soon as her head hits the pillow, she’s out.”

“Stop talking about me like I can’t hear you!” Mia yells from the bathroom.

“SHHHH!”

Liam straightens up. “I’m gonna go change and get washed up,” he whispers, coming over to Louis and patting him on the arse. “Come to bed soon, alright?”

Louis thinks of their earlier conversation and grins. “Yeah, love.”

He sits on Amir’s bed and strokes his hair while he waits for Mia to finish up. Looking at him in his little tuxedo shirt makes Louis sad; he looks like a tiny version of an adult.

He doesn’t like thinking about Amir growing up. Mia, he doesn’t worry about so much — she was born wiser than her years, so full of piss and vinegar. She’ll get knocked down, yeah, but his intuition tells him she’ll get back up. Amir, though, has a brittle fragility to him. He hopes he grows out of it.

Mia comes out, wearing her little dinosaur pajamas. “Get off my bed, Dad,” she says, and yawns.

Louis laughs and stands up, holding the corner of the sheets up for her so she can slide under. “Get some rest, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her on the forehead. “Listen, um — I’m gonna lock the door between our rooms, but if you need anythin’ at all, you knock, okay?”

“Lock your door? Why?” Mia says, squinting at him. “Are you guys gonna  _do_  it?”

“Mims, don’t be inappropriate. We just want some privacy, that’s all.”

“Privacy to do sex?”

“ _Mia_!”

“Fine, privacy to kiss each other?”

He hesitates. “Yeah. Just a bit of goodnight kisses. As normal adults in healthy relationships do.”

“Gross,” she declares.

Louis stands up and goes to the door, flipping the light off. “Get some  _sleep_ ,” he whispers. “Love you.”

“Love you. Dad?”

He turns. “Yeah?”

“I’m glad Liam’s gonna be our stepdad,” Mia whispers. She already sounds like she’s drifting off. “I like him.”

Louis smiles wide. “Good, sweets.”

“And you really love him, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Good,” she chirps.

He pulls the door shut behind him, and flips the privacy lock.

Liam is already undressed and in their bed, lying sideways on the mattress and leaning on one elbow, the sheet draped daintily over his crotch. He looks like he’s doing a calendar shoot. “Hullo,” he says with a grin.

“Hullo handsome,” Louis says, smiling back.

He starts undressing where he stands, stripping to his boxers. Liam slips off the bed (oh, he’s absolutely starkers) and comes to him, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Louis’ mouth. Louis melts under him, parting his lips, and Liam’s tongue surges hotly in.

Louis moans softly, clinging to him and swaying on the spot.

Liam pulls back from his lips and starts kissing up his neck, grazing his teeth over the sensitive skin. “You got me going tonight, sitting on my lap like that…”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you know I love it when you do that. I love feeling that arse on me. Makes me wanna throw you on the floor and fuck you right there.”

Louis lets his eyes flutter shut. Liam keeps kissing him, his eager mouth and prickly beard nice and rough.

“D’you feel good? Feel sexy?”

“I do,” Louis whispers. “I do, I feel sexy.”

Liam starts rubbing at his cock, and it stiffens almost immediately in response.

“Well hello there,” Liam says to it.

Louis laughs. “Bit pent-up, me.”

“I’ll take care of you.”

“Really I just want you inside me. I’ll come in a minute flat if you just start fuckin’ me right.”

Liam’s eyelids lower; his dark eyes grow liquid. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, putting a soft whine in his voice.

“You gotta ask me nicely,” Liam teases.

“Please, Daddy?” he says, grinning with evil mischief.

Liam exhales through his teeth and rubs at Louis’ cock a little harder. “Fuck off.”

“Better shut me up, then.”

“Oh, I will. God, I want to fuck you so bad.”

Louis rises onto his tiptoes and wraps his arms around Liam’s neck, whispering in his ear, “Imagine how tight I’m gonna be.”

Liam lets out a wordless exclamation of frustration and seizes him around the waist, dragging him backward to the bed like a caveman. Louis lets himself be dragged, giggling gaily.

They fall onto the bed, and Louis stuffs a pillow under his lower back while Liam is squeezing lube into his palm and rubbing it on his willy.

“Want some foreplay first, Payno?” Louis says, tilting his head and raising his hands to clap the lights off.

“Sure, love, sure,” Liam says, leaning down, elbows on the bed on either side of Louis.

They snog for longer and harder — really sensual, toothy kisses, shifting against each other and getting friction on their cocks. Liam is being very grabby, but Louis doesn’t mind. Actually, for the first time in a while, he’s open to Liam’s worshipful hands. He wants to like his body for what it is now — a little thicker, a little more fucked up and achy. He did a good thing for them, he created two funny little people for them to love.

He’s alright with Liam cherishing that. He’s not going to go all Harold-y and start talking about womb energies, or anything, but he can try to love himself a little better.

“I want you,” he sighs to Liam, as Liam’s working on his leaking, rock-hard cock with one hand and groping his thigh with the other.

“You ready for me?” Liam says huskily, pressing kisses to the strut of his collarbone and then up his neck, tickling Louis with his stubble.

“Ah, God, yeah, I am.”

“I wanna make you feel so good,” Liam whispers, fingering him. “I’m gonna fuck you to pieces.”

Louis clings to his biceps, nodding. “Do it, do it.”

They work together in silence to get him in, breathing heavily, their hands fumbly and their chests and faces growing sweaty. Finally Liam slides inside him, and Louis tries not to moan too loud, but it rises to a high enough pitch that Liam has to cover his mouth with his hand.

“Oh,” Louis sighs between his fingers. “Oh, fuck. Liam, fuck. God.”

“Fuck, you feel good,” Liam groans. “God, I can’t wait to marry you.”

Louis laughs at the wonderful, funny earnestness of this, and Liam kisses him hard as he moves into him, hard enough to bruise Louis’ lip.

Louis doesn’t mind. His brain is a void of endless pleasure, a warm dark expanse where riots of color explode on black like fireworks in the night sky. All he is is this, all he knows is Liam’s body. And he feels it, finally, what he’s been missing for so long; he’s cracked open and allowed it to seep back in. That all-in, devoted love they have for each other.

“God,” he moans, more softly. “Fuck. Deeper, c’mon, love.”

Liam wraps his arms around him and starts really working his hips, pumping into him. Louis lets his head drop back, his lips parted.

“You’re so tight,” Liam breathes. “Shit, you feel so good. Jesus Christ.”

“Don’t come yet…”

“I’m trying, I’m trying.”

Liam’s hand is still tight around Louis’ cock, stroking him with hard, fast tugs. Louis squirms under him, almost unbearably overstimulated, willing himself to ride the razor’s edge of the sensation. He moves his body with Liam’s, in time with his thrusts, and Liam exhales heavily into his neck, his breath hot and wet.

“Gimme a hickey,” Louis breathes.

To his surprise, Liam obliges, sucking on his neck near his hairline as he fucks roughly into him. Louis chuckles low in his throat and grabs at Liam’s hair with one hand, raking his short nails up his back with the other. He’s missed being filled by Liam like this — every inch claimed by him, Liam’s cock rammed balls-deep in him, his mouth on Louis and his arms around him.

“You’re mine,” Louis says, and closes his fist hard on Liam’s hair.

Liam lets out a soft breath and nods, lifting his swollen lips from Louis’ neck. “Yeah… you mine?”

He laughs, the sound of it hitching as Liam fucks into him. “Always, you idiot, always.”


End file.
